Porcelain and Stone
by MorKen
Summary: This is a story about an OC of mine, initially taking place in the Elizabethan Era. As centuries pass, the woman lives on, becoming vengeful and malicious. Horrible memories haunt her and atrocious events befall her, yet she rises up as a business tycoon. However, during the Victorian Era she meets a young Earl and his butler, changing everything.
1. The Infamous Night

The evening was cloudless and the sky was aglow with the pinpoints of tiny stars; yet beneath the horizon's deceivingly beautiful facade, harbored an unforgiving chill that seeped through Seraphine and into her frail little bones. Her face was numb. Her cheeks were dotted with purple from the cold. Her eyelashes were tipped with frost from London's freezing air. They hastened their pace, pulling her gently along in an attempt to reach their destination more quickly and escape this ruthless December night air. She, with some effort, tried to match the beat of their quickening footsteps as she stood between the two of them, each holding one of her hands. She looked up to her left and gazed upon her father's face. He smiled at Seraphine with his thin, cheerful lips and turned his gaze back in front of him. Feeling a little warmer from his grin, she turned and looked up at her mother. Seraphine's mother was the most beautiful woman she knew. Her graceful blonde hair was braided and twisted into a regal bun. Her emerald green eyes glowed with power and confidence, yet under them humility and generosity were obvious and abundant. She also received a smile from her as she looked down upon Seraphine, her daughter, who possessed the same features; her light blonde hair, glimmering green eyes, and plump pink lips were also adorned upon her daughter's adolescent face. Seraphine knew that one day she would look just like her mother.

They found themselves walking briskly down a narrow, desolate street. It became dimmer and more eerie with each step the three took. Suddenly, they turned a corner and found themselves at a dead end. Seraphine's mood dampened as she gazed up the bricked obstacle towering above her tiny head. It was freezing, and they still were not very close to home. The blonde little girl envied those who were warm in their houses, looking out upon the night and seeing only the stars that swarmed the sky-the bitter outside cold a mere fantasy to them. Her father, always cheerful, simply sighed and turned then around. Her left foot rose and began to take a step forward, but was yanked back. She stumbled backwards and she felt her father's grip loosen on her hand. Behind her, she heard the thud and crumpling of clothing, followed quickly by the crack of a head smacking against the pavement. Sickening gurgling sounds pervaded her ears. Her mother turned around and, before she could utter a single noise, a flash of pale flesh tore into her chest, breaking through her sternum with a heavy _snap_. Her hand lost her daughter's as she too crumpled to the ground. Seraphine gazed upon her father and mother, lying in bloodied heaps on the London alleyway. Her tiny throat was closing, blocking any sort of sound from escaping her lips. Terrified, she gazed gingerly up at the being who had just killed the ones she loved most in the world.

He was tall; his eyes a swirling abyss of fuchsia with thin, cat-like slits serving as pupils. Seraphine stood, cringing, starting into his malicious eyes. All feeling drained from her, spilling onto the blood-stained cobblestone street. His lips curved into a devilish smile, revealing a set of pointed, gleaming, heinous-looking teeth. She fell on her knees, her eyes clouding quickly with salty, stinging tears. She opened her mouth to scream, but in an instant his hand was covering her mouth. She began to thrash, trying to break free from his grasp, but to no avail; his hold on was as strong as iron. Suddenly, she felt her insides lurch with immense force. Pain swarmed through her body like a colony of infuriated wasps. The girl whimpered, looking down, and saw his fingers had punctured through her skin and into her abdomen. The child's eyes widened, horrified and panic-stricken at the sight. His fingers loosed and wiggled out of the holes in Seraphine's flesh, releasing her from his grasp. She fell to the ground, her face smacking against the cold, unforgiving stone that was now covered in a thickening pool of blood. Their noble blood spread, mixing with dirt on the cobblestone. Seraphine mustered her remaining strength and attempted to crawl away, gasping for air, her eyes shut tightly as she bore the immense pain radiating from her abdomen. Knowing the girl would not manage to get further than a few feet, he watched as the beautiful child for a few moments as her struggling and pain proved entertaining. He was highly amused by her pathetic display of desperation. He chuckled wickedly as his foot came crashing down on her back. Seraphine heard her delicate little spine snap, immobilizing her. All of the breath was immediately knocked out of her, her lungs failing to gather any more air. Darkness loomed across her eyes, threatening to encase the child in a world of black. He smiled as she struggled to stay conscious. Just before everything faded, Seraphine faintly heard him speaking. She tried to concentrate and comprehend what it was he was saying, but couldn't. She could tell, however, that it was rhythmic, almost like a chant. Seraphine listened to his vile voice as she slipped, body and mind, into ebony oblivion.


	2. The Bloodied Voyage

Seraphine Yorkshire's eyelids twitched and flung open at the memory of that accursed night. Eight years had passed and it was now 1609. After years of relentless research into the subjects of dark magic and supernatural beings, she was able to identify the creature that had attacked her and murdered her loved ones that cold December night. According to the passages, the only creature possessing the traits that had haunted the corners of her mind was a demon. At first she did not believe it, scoffing and passing it off as a mere fairy-tale. However, having spent the past eight years playing that night over and over again in her head, she now accepted it as a macabre reality. She tightly shut her eyes again, shaking the flashbacks from her mind. She opened them and found herself standing on the deck of the wooden ship that would soon take her and several others to France. Ashore stood a large group of smiling faces, waving to their loved ones as the ship's sails unfurled and caught a breeze, causing the ship to lurch forward. The sound of waves began slowly lapping at the sides of the vessel, marking the start of their journey. Paris was to be her ultimate destination once this vessel landed on France's shores. There, Seraphine was to receive further education and take control of the Yorkshire's old business dealings and partnerships. She had taken over as sole owner of the Yorkshire fortune, which her father had instructed be left to her should mother and he die. Tearing her gaze away from the dock, she began to wander around the ship, watching as several crew members tied down ropes to knobs that jutted from the railings of the ship as they made the final preparations for the journey. Seraphine meandered, watching the azure water. The baby blue sky was blocked by large sections of white clouds.

"Daddy," a child began faintly from behind her, snapping Seraphine's mind back to attention, "is the ship safe?" The father chuckled. Seraphine turned so that she could see the two. The little girl looked no older than twelve, with brown hair pulled up into a tight bun. Her face was tan and her eyes were large and innocent. _"Such a sweet looking thing..."_ Seraphine thought dryly to herself. Her attention was turned to the man as he replied to the child's worried inquiry.

"Why of course it's safe, Eloise! She's one of the finest passenger ships around!" He continued to chuckle and lead his daughter away from the bow. Seraphine's eyes narrowed as she resumed wandering around the ship, thinking.

Early the next morning, while the sun had just begun to peek over the horizon, not yet contaminating the pink and purple colors that mixed together like liquid in the sky, Seraphine was thumbing through the documents and legal papers regarding the companies she would soon do dealings with, when a pair of screams echoed throughout the vessel. She sighed, putting the papers back into their folder and went to open the door. In the hallway, passengers were scrambling, most still in their nightshirts and robes, towards the screams. Seraphine watched for a moment and then followed the sound of pounding footsteps to the upper deck. There on the deck lay the lifeless body of the little brown haired girl, cradled in the arms of her father. The man's wife was leaning on his shoulder, sobbing and gazing at their her daughter. The crowd of passengers and crewmen watched silently as the man and woman grieved at the loss of their innocent child. A woman in the crowd began sobbing at the sight, her face quickly becoming a teary, sniveling mess. "_Most unladylike..."_ thought Seraphine scornfully. The group parted as the Captain's footsteps neared the scene, making a pathway for him. He walked to the father of the now lifeless girl and put a rough, burly hand on the man's shoulder.

"Words cannot express our condolences for your loss." he began, taking off his cap and scratched his bald head with his free hand. "The person responsible will be caught…and punished. I assure you." The man and woman gazed up at him with teary eyes. The father merely nodded and looked back down at his eternally resting child.

"Don't you worry sir, we'll find the sick bastard who did this…" sounded the second mate in a firm and reassuring tone. "We'll find em' and make em' pay for what they done…" His comment earned a few hearty nods from several of the men in the crowd, yet neither the mother or father acknowledged the man's words. Gradually, the crowd of passengers dispersed and went back to their quarters and the crew went back to their work.

_"I know I shouldn't have done it..."_ Seraphine thought as the sun began to set, marking the nearing end of yet another day. Thursday the ship would land in France - two days. _"I have reigned down hell upon that poor man and woman...I took from them the most precious thing in their life..."_ Seraphine's eyes fell to the fountain pen sitting on the stack of legal papers strewn across the writing desk. She picked it up and began reading over the documents. Her eyes narrowed. _"...good..."_

* * *

Guilt and regret had become empty words carrying estranged meanings. Over the few years Seraphine Yorkshire had lived as this monster she had already caused a considerable amount of mischief and havoc throughout the damp, dark streets of London. Four years after the attack, when she was only fourteen, she met a thin, cunning fellow after a considerably messy run-in with two newlyweds in an alleyway as they exited a pub. He saw the entire encounter, staying hidden in the shadows as Seraphine tried desperately to satisfy the never-ceasing hunger that had cursed her belly since that accursed, infamous night.

"My, my..." he whispered, slowly emerging from the shadows, "we seem to be kindred spirits my dear..." Seraphine looked up, alarmed at the sudden presence of the thin, very short man dressed in patched tattered clothing. His eyes turned from a glowing yellow to the swirling vats of fuchsia that had haunted her memories for four years. She, though taken aback at the man and his comment, remained silent and watched him with careful, calculating eyes. _"Kindred spirits?..."_

"Yes." He smiled, his eyes returning to their original, yet unnerving, unnatural yellow. "You see," he began, "there are a handful of our kind that wander the earth, seen as devils incarnate. But you, my dear, are a rarity. An extraordinary novelty. It is almost unheard of for someone so young, especially a female, to be taken into our ranks. I am surprised you survived the transformation..." Her eyes narrowed and she tensed up as he took several steps closer to her. "Now, now, don't worry, sweetie. I would never kill a priceless thing like you...So pretty..." He sighed and smiled, tapping his lower lip with his index finger, pondering. "_Now what kind of monster would turn a young girl into one of us?" _He thought to himself. "_She will indeed become very beautiful; her emerald green eyes were simply intoxicating; her lustrous blonde hair hangs like silver in the moonlight. This dazzling young female demon is a prized find." _He chuckled at the fact that she was still tensed, ready for a fight. Shrugging his shoulders dismissively, he turned to leave, but looked back to say one last thing:

"You're not alone, my dear. Just remember that." He leapt up onto the roof of the pub that framed the alleyway. "And, keep in mind that just because you feel the urge to do things like that..." he motioned towards the bloodied heaps, "doesn't mean that you're an atrocity. For one of our race, that is a necessity." And with that, he disappeared, a smirk painted on his thin, dirty face.

* * *

She waited until it was very late at night; the sky had long since transformed into a solid blanket of indigo, providing a safe cover. She slipped silently out of her cabin and made her way to the main deck. Seraphine skillfully blended completely into the shadows as she crept along the wooded floor. She saw the second mate standing at the back of the ship, a pistol stationed in his right hand. Her eyes narrowed and a positively wicked grin crawled across her rosebud lips. Her muscles tensed and, in less than a second, the second mate was lying on the wood. Blood spattered across the deck, emulating the sound of sprinkling rain. Once her purpose was fulfilled and her appetite slightly satiated, Seraphine noiselessly returned to her quarters and, for the first time in months, indulged in sleep.

Commotion once again erupted early the next morning as Seraphine was stationed at the writing desk, finalizing the documents and legal obligations for her to take control of her father's business relationships once in Paris. She once again slowly following the stampede of passengers and crewmen as they scrambled towards the upper deck. Everyone gathered around the second mate's body. The Captain and his first mate were visibly shaken. She, no longer interested in the occurrences around her, looked out to sea. The sky was perfectly clear and blue and the water shined its royal cobalt blue. A slight breeze threaded through Seraphine's loose blonde radiant curls. She sighed and tore her attention from the scenery. She silently watched as the crowd's faces betrayed their fear. _"Humans..."_ Seraphine thought bitterly, shaking her head. _"death is meaningless, yet they choose to lament over it like a lonely child would a broken toy. Pathetic." _The crowd began to dissipate, returning to their cabins. Seraphine returned wordlessly to her own and began to pack her things. Usually a servant would have accompanied her, but this time she insisted on traveling alone, knowing that what would happen in France, along with her choice to leave London for the foreseeable future, would surely be hindered by the presence of another. However, the fact that she was left to do everything on her own did not phase Seraphine. Ever since the attack, she had becoming increasingly independent. She spoke minimally, viewing copious amounts of words as unladylike, disadvantageous, and counterproductive.

She decided later that night that it would be safe to remain in her cabin, for there would surely be a plentiful amount of crewmen serving as makeshift guards around the ship. It was absurd to risk being discovered and the Yorkshire name stained in the attempt for another meal; she had suppressed her hunger enough with the previous two.

* * *

Morning spread its wholesome glow across Europe as the ship sailed into the harbor in France.


	3. The Christening of Belladonna

Nearly ninety years had passed since Seraphine Yorkshire had moved to Paris from London. It was now 1697. Seraphine had taken over as head of the Yorkshire family with elegance and brilliancy. Her transfer into the world of business had been flawless, having doubled the vast Yorkshire fortune within thirty years. She gradually began dealing with the East India Company, which held a promising future for her merchandising. By her forties, she had already become one of France's most prominent business tycoons. Many were amazed at her talents in the business world, as well as her high level of education and notable intelligence. She was more clever and cunning that hardly anyone her associates had ever known, making her a viable and irreplaceable asset. However, many began to wonder about Seraphine Yorkshire and how she had managed to stay so young looking throughout the years. It was true. Seraphine had remained young in appearance, still sporting her long, loose, radiant blonde locks, plump rosebud lips, and her mother's signature emerald green eyes. But, because of the growing suspicion regarding her seemingly magical inability to age, Seraphine Yorkshire was left with no choice. She had to die.

* * *

News spread almost instantaneously of Seraphine Yorkshire's suicide. It was both tragic, yet elegant, for Lady Yorkshire was, herself, extremely elegant and always ladylike. Her Last Will and Testament instructed that the Yorkshire fortune was to be given to a personally chosen heiress: Belladonna Fortescue. According to the Testament, Belladonna Fortescue was a teenaged girl that had become a close friend of Lady Yorkshire's over the years, for Miss Lady Fortescue reminded Lady Yorkshire of her mother that had died when she was only eight years old. It stated that Belladonna Fortescue had spent several years learning from Seraphine on how to maneuver through the business world. Word of the Yorkshire heiress spread rapidly, and soon Belladonna Fortescue was inducted as the new Lady Yorkshire heiress.

* * *

Seraphine sat in her study, looking out across the park where the many happy French faces frolicked. The sun had begun to set, causing the cloud-spotted sky to mix, like a painting, with oranges, yellows, pinks, and purples. It was a thing of beauty. In a way, it was a sad thing to see her life as Seraphine Yorkshire vanish within a single evening. It was the identity she had grown up with and was her beloved parents' noble Tudor name. "_Nevertheless, Belladonna Fortescue was the only solution to the problem at hand..."_ Seraphine thought dully.

Night fell and people slowly began to disappear from the street, fleeing to their warm, safe homes. It was bitterly cold outside, dusty patches of snow lay strewn across the ground and rooftops. A cold December night. The clouds in the sky remained, blocking out patches of stars. Seraphine thought back to that accursed night nearly an entire century ago. Yet, regardless of the number of years that had passed, Seraphine remembered the events of the attack as if it were yesterday: the man, the sight of her parents in crumpled heaps, the pain…

Seraphine shook herself from her memories. She tousled her cascading hair and rose from her chair. On her way towards the door, Seraphine turned to face the oval mirror that was hung above a small table. She studied herself in the mirror; her emerald green eyes had been changed to yellow, providing a unique contrast against her now shining, ebony hair. She stared and blinked.

"Belladonna Fortescue, you are one lucky woman." she said dryly, smirking at herself. It had been quite a while since she had last spoken; a few months, she supposed. Her voice sounded smooth and melodic, yet authoritative. She was slightly taken aback; it was such a rarity she heard her own voice and it sounded foreign to her ears. But, with that simple statement, Seraphine christened herself into the name of Belladonna Fortescue. For the next handful of decades, she would accept this identity.

The next morning Phyllis, the manor's only servant, wrapped lightly on the wood of the Lady's chamber door. She was slightly afraid of the heiress, who emitted a very prestigious and intimidating aura. She seemed cold and uncaring in Phyllis' opinion, but at the same time was very beautiful. Phyllis' hand went for the door handle just as it gently swung open. In the doorway stood a fully dressed Belladonna Fortescue. This caught Phyllis off guard, for it was just now dawn and her lady had already arisen and readied herself for the day.

"Yes, Phyllis?" Belladonna asked. Phyllis' eyes snapped up and met the tall, black haired woman's unnerving gaze.

"Um…I was just coming to wake you, Heiress…" stuttered the short, portly, gray-haired woman. Belladonna smiled and nodded, closing the door, leaving poor Phyllis dumbfounded in the hall.


	4. The Final Alias

Belladonna Fortescue, the Heiress of the Yorkshires, was now running. She ran down the deserted, darkened streets of Paris, followed closely by three large demonic figures. Her dress was torn and ragged from scrapping the ground, muddied with the filthy pools of stagnant water that were scattered haphazardly along the streets. She leapt up onto a nearby roof and, taking advantage of the few seconds she had to spare before she continued, ripped the nuisance of a dress and shortened it to just above the knees to allow her to run with more ease. Behind her, she heard three consecutive thuds land on the edge of the roof. _"Relentless imbeciles…" _she thought as she resumed running, leaping across the rooftops of buildings. She was getting slightly winded, for the men had been chasing her for some time. They were among her kind, possessing strength and endurance slightly surpassing her own. Belladonna knew she could not escape them. In a last feeble attempt to shake them, she jumped from the rooftop and into a nearby pub called "La Taverne du Roi Soleil" named after Louis XIV, France's beloved "Sun King." She had been here before after a particularly messy feeding on a few fellows in the adjacent alleyway a few years back. The lights inside were dim and dust hung visibly in the air. "_Hardly a place for a noblewoman." _Belladonna thought, cringed in disgust and disgrace as she walked slowly towards the darkest table in the back. The door slammed open as the three men stepped into the bar. Belladonna knew this was the end of the chase. Nevertheless, she refused to go down without a fight. She smirked wickedly and turned to face the men, her muscles tensing, ready for battle. In a second, she was surrounded. Many of the patrons ran from the building, sensing what was to ensue. The bartender, however, stayed, trying to appease the men and rambling on in French. The three ignored his words and closed in on Belladonna, their eyes turned to glowing fuchsia, quickly followed by her own.

"Bothersome creatures…" Belladonna murmured as they still grew closer.

* * *

The pain was surprisingly not as bad as she had expected. The three had certainly did a number on her, though, leaving her mangled in the street. As her blood began pooling around her on the cobblestone, her mind drifted back to that night – to the sight of her mother and father lying in crumpled maimed heaps, their crimson blood spilling on the stone. For the first time in one hundred and fifty years, her eyes swelled with tears. She had long ago sworn to take the life of the man who had killed her parents and turned her into this vile monster, but so far, she was having no luck in hunting him down. She found and met many other fellow demons throughout her years, yes. But none of them were the man she searched so fervently for. The tears dissipated from her eyes, replaced by anger and vengeance. She would never cease until she had found that loathsome creature and killed him. He was the devil incarnate, like all of their species. Soul-stealers, monsters, devils, hellions, beasts: these were all words viciously used to describe demons. _"Fitting…"_ Belladonna thought dryly. The sun was beginning to rise, peeking over the buildings of Paris, their windows aglow with the giant star's brilliant early-morning yellow. Belladonna heard a pair of footsteps sounding from several blocks away. She sighed and waited to be discovered. As the two rounded the corner, they saw a bloody mass laying in the street. The woman screamed as the man accompanying her ran over to Belladonna. His hands were gentle, pulling her shoulder to where her face was visible. His eyes widened.

"This is…the Yorkshire family Heiress…" he whispered. The woman now stood behind him, gingerly peering over him at the woman's flayed body.

"Belladonna Fortescue?" she breathed in disbelief. _"How unladylike and improper. I, of all people, being seen in such a state."_ Belladonna thought irately. She was ashamed and infuriated at her unrefined appearance. Nevertheless, it was too late now. And, she conceded, it was well timed – her death. She had lived long enough under this alias. It was time to change, once again. _"Never mind the Yorkshire inheritance. I will make my own fortune. If I am not able to build my wealth up once again, I do not deserve the Yorkshire blood that flows through my veins."_ She could hear the man and woman yelling, trying to call someone over. Unable to move or make a sound, Belladonna's eyes looked straight ahead while a policeman came into peripheral view. _"Ahhh…the quintessential French 'Pig'…" _She fought a smirk. After a short conversation with the couple, she felt the policeman's rough, sausage-like fingers closed her eyelids. For the first time in many years, Belladonna indulged in sleep.

* * *

Her eyes opened, adjusting to the darkness as a musty oak scent pervaded her nostrils. She felt around her wood encasement. It was surprisingly smooth and well built; the boards fitted together in perfect order, not allowing any light to pass through. While impressed at the expert care and design of the thing, Belladonna was stiff and cramped inside it. With a swift upward movement of her knee, the lid flew up and crashed to the floor. She slowly sat up, stiff from her wooden encasement, and looked around the room. Coffins lined the edges of the large square area. A single window placed next to the door provided the only light source. The walls were a deep, cooling eggplant and in one of the corners was a curtain that covered what she suspected was the entrance to another room. A voice chuckled from behind her. Her head whipped around. It was a man. He had long silver hair that fell to the small of his back, his bangs covering his eyes. He was dressed in black and was adorned with an elegant black top hat. His long, curling lips smiled at her as he continued to chuckle, revealing two rows of razor-like teeth.

"I knew you weren't dead." he said, his voice throaty and eerie, yet cheerful.

"Clever man." replied the woman, scrutinizing him through narrowed yellow eyes. She slowly got out of the coffin and stood in front of the man. His only response was a single chortle as he turned and walked towards the curtain, brushing past it and entering the hidden adjacent room. _"Strange…"_ Belladonna walked out the door and into the street.

* * *

Two years later, under the alias of Circe Duncombe, Seraphine Yorkshire resolved to stay out of any dealings that may make her well-known and thus have to once again change her name. The identity shifting had made Seraphine tired. She was weary of the seemingly constant responsibility to cater to the public's rumors and curiosities. _"Those pig-headed humans are relentless…"_ thought Seraphine, exasperated, as she looked at herself in the mirror; her hair had been reverted back to its original light blonde; her eyes as green and striking as ever; she looked like the original - Seraphine. Memories of the induction into the alias of Belladonna Fortescue flooded her mind, remembering how she stood in front of the mirror in her manor in Paris, staring at a melancholy reflection. But not this time. Seraphine Yorkshire would use her time under this new assumed name wisely. She would stay under the radar and refrain from being known as anyone particularly important. If she had to, she would turn her back, temporarily of course, on her life of luxury. She refused to change her identity a fourth time. This was it.

As a somewhat theatric tradition, Seraphine stared at herself in the mirror and said with a smirk while narrowing her eyes, "Circe Duncombe, you are one lucky girl…" This was her last chance; she had to play this one right.

The woman was forced to live leaner than she ever had before. She could not afford a nice home, nor nice clothing. Luxuries she once considered normal were now unattainable. But, regardless of the slightly daunting transition into the lifestyle of a commoner, Circe came into it determined, ready for the challenge.

Not having enough spare funds to waste on fine dresses and other apparel, Circe now adorned herself in a simpler, cheaper ensemble. Tight fitting black and white pinstripe trousers, a white, collared shirt with large sleeves that gathered tightly at the wrists, and a burgundy corset along with laced black boots that came up to her mid-calf now served as her wardrobe. She felt most unladylike in this type of garb, but she was left with no other alternative. Any other style of clothing would be both too expensive as well as impractical and suspicious for a supposed impoverished person. Circe was in a unique situation, however, for the only reason many people needed money is so that they would not starve. Circe had no need for this. Her appetite was only satisfied through what the humans considered only the most detestable of actions. She had, for some reason or another, never been concerned with the moral issue of taking innocent lives. After all, like that demon she met that night in the alleyway only a four years after the attack stated, it was a necessity for their race. No, the absence of morality and virtue in what she did was never an issue in her mind. The only thing that vexed her was the fact that it was most inelegant of her to get her hands dirty and stoop to the level of a common killer. Regardless of her current situation, Circe Duncombe was not common. After all, anyone who had the noble Tudor blood of the Yorkshires coursing through their veins could never be considered _bourgeois_. Circe refused to ever allow a person to see her as common or plain – she would forever maintain her elegance, grace, and poise. While she may not, for the time being, be one of high-society, she would never lose what she had learned and the role she had assumed and established within herself throughout the countless years.

* * *

The French people had begun to irritate Circe to no end, whining endlessly like children for their "Liberte, egalite, et fraternite!". The air crackled with animosity towards the fat pig of a ruler and his pompous big-haired wife. It was soon to become what the starving, impatient citizens of France had predicted would be The French Revolution. Circe sensed that the tension would snap between the nobility and plebeians within a mere matter of months. An eruption of violence and terror would ensue throughout the country. _"A perfect ambience…"_ Circe thought to herself, knowing that the mayhem would provide optimal cover for one last feeding frenzy before she returned to London. It had been nearly two centuries since she had been in England, and she was eager to, at last, return home. The following year, pandemonium erupted. The Bastille was stormed and the "Great Fear" set in among the people. Through all the anarchy, Circe's hunger was satisfied every night. Many fell to her swift attacks among the swirling vat of chaos and revolutionary unrest. In the midst of this turmoil, Circe found herself, for the first time, satisfied. Her belly finally full, she boarded a ship in 1795 bound for London, she was exceedingly thankful to be leaving the city of Paris at last.


	5. In London Once Again

When Circe Duncombe stepped off the boat and onto English soil once again, a wave of serenity passed over her. The humid, cool air smelled faintly of seawater as she wandered among the streets she so loved. Regardless of the countless decades she had been in France, she remembered every street corner, every building, every landmark from when she had resided in the fair city. Not much had changed from the last time she had laid eyes on London; the streets were grimy and dingy with people of all statuses meandering along them. The sky was gray from the solid sheet of smog that hung over the city. It was beautiful in Circe's eyes. Yes, this is where she belonged. London is where she became the woman she was today. Where she lost the only people in the world that she loved. Where she was born and spent the first eighteen years of her life. London was _her_ city.

She had arrived during the peak of what had been deemed Europe's "Romantic Period". Art and literature had become the large focus of this movement. Artists were plentiful and popular. They held many different philosophies, some of which Circe agreed with. For example, the artists distrusted those who were a part of the outside world. So did she. Humans were very distrustful creatures. Always seeming like they were lying and trying to scrounge their way to the top. They lived in lies and filth and snuck around suspiciously like rats among the shadows. However, many of the ideologies of the people during this time were the need to revolt against aristocratic, social, and political norms, which slightly exasperated her. It seemed, as of late, she could not seem to escape the theme of revolution. All things considered, though, this new movement humored Circe.

Circe chose to take advantage of being back in London. Every day she would search and try to track down those of her kind, hoping to find The Man that had attacked her and her family all those years ago. Relentlessly she searched, figuring that The Man may have stayed in London. Even after over one hundred and fifty years in Paris, she was not able to track down the man she desired. She prayed that London would be where she would find Him.

She soon became a part of London's drug trafficking business, dealing in narcotics. Slowly, yet surely, she had begun to once again rise up in the business world, making a name for herself. She had grown tired of the less-privileged lifestyle and craved the excitement and satisfaction of being a business tycoon once again. But for now, she slowly rose up, careful not to draw unneeded attention to herself. It was 1843, during the Opium War with China. Many of Circe's ties were with infamous drug lords that held strong ties with the Chinese. She was getting rather skilled in dealing with the underworld of London. Her ruthless, sly, vicious exterior proved convincing among the members of the organized crime families. She was seen as an advantageous affiliate.

The underworld proved as a vantage point in her search for The Man. Through the seedy underbelly of London and its members, she was able to track down many more of her kind. Usually they were not bothered by her or her inquiries. However, like the men that had killed Belladonna Fortescue, some were not as tolerant and pleasant. On several occasions Circe was chased or attacked. But the years had transformed her into a stronger, skillful, more agile creature, thus providing her with the ability to fight and win against most daunting opponents. She had adapted well to the situation she now found herself in. Never before had she dreamed that she would ever lower herself to the level of drug trafficking and gang associate. Yet, it fit her. She felt oddly…in place...As if the square peg had finally stopped trying to fit in the circular hole. She had not worn exquisite or expensive clothing since France, and strangely, she liked that, too. The tight fitting trousers, high-heeled boots, puffy white shirt and corset suited her well. She no longer felt unladylike or unrefined while wearing them. She realized that she had expounded her knowledge, nature, and experiences ten-fold since she had arrived back in London, and was proud of herself for it.

One night, while walking alone along a dim, deserted street, she felt someone's presence. She warily continued towards her destination – the hideout of a drug lord named Felix Marcelo. Marcelo was her main affiliate, her loyalty lying strongest with him. He was a lean, somewhat short Englishman with the easily roused temper of a Scott. She was his favorite associate, thus giving her slight leverage when dealing with his other gang members. She heard light footsteps walking behind her now as she lightly hastened her pace. _"Wonderful…"_ she thought "_Just what I need."_ Her eyes narrowed and she kept on walking, her ears picking up the barely audible scuff of shoes on the pavement. Suddenly, two men appeared at her sides and grabbed her, shoving her down to the ground. _"They're strong…"_ she realized as she tried in vain to escape their hold. _"Inhumanly strong…" _The owner of the footsteps behind her then arrived, placing a cloth over her mouth and nose. She kept fighting. Soon, though, everything faded to black.


	6. The Prostitute House

She awoke feeling stiff and uncomfortable. Her arms, she realized, were chained behind her and above her head. As her eyes came into focus, she saw that she was in a cage. .

"H-hello." mumbled a tiny voice from the other side of the cage. Circe looked up. It was a young woman, probably eighteen or nineteen. Her mousy brown hair was long, ratted and unkempt. She was covered in smudged dirt, cuts, and bruises, staring at Circe with big, doe-like, brown eyes.

"What is this place?" Circe asked, raising an eyebrow.

"A prostitute house run by a group of Chinese. They're mad about the Opium Wars in their country, so for revenge against England they kidnap English women and enslave them in this place." Her voice was soft and frightened. _"Poor broken child…"_

"How long has it been in operation?" asked Circe, shaking a loose hair from in front of her face.

"I don't know. I've been here three months, though. And there were lots of girls already here when I came." She looked down at her feet shyly.

"Right under England's nose…"Circe growled. The girl ignored the comment and leaned her head against the bars. Circe turned to inspect the rest of her surroundings. Cages were placed in rows along the floor of what looked like was a decently sized wooden warehouse. Smoke that reeked of opium and incense hung in the poorly lit air. Footsteps sounded from down the hallway. Circe turned to look; it was a Chinese man dressed in an extravagant black and white suit. On either side of him stood the two men that held Circe down during her capture. She could immediately tell that they were among her kind. _"How cute. Demons serving as bodyguards…" _Circe smirked. The man in the fine suit pointed to the cage opposite hers containing two black haired girls who looked no older than the girl in Circe's cage. They too were chained to the bars by their wrists. One of the men standing beside him took a ring of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door to the cage and then the irons that bound the girls. Each took a girl by the hair and yanked her outside. The man who Circe figured was the proprietor of the..._establishment_ turned and walked up the row of remaining cages and through a doorway that led to a room lit with candles. The two brutes, still holding the whimpering girls by their hair, followed him up the row and through the doorway.

"Their being taken to clients." Circe turned and looked at the girl in her cage. The girl continued, "They'll get dressed up and then they'll be sent to whoever is paying for a night with them. Then they'll come back looking worse than before and put back in the cage and chained up again until the next time." Tears began to glaze over the child's eyes. Circe felt a slight pang of pity for the girl. Human or not, no child deserved this. Circe remained silent and tore her gaze away from her. A few hours passed and the two girls were escorted by the burly _bodyguards _and put back in their cage and, verifying the girl's earlier statement, they looked worse than they had before they were taken. The proprietor then appeared and pointed to their cage, saying something in Chinese to the men and gesturing to Circe. One of the men unlocked the cage and took her out by the hair. As they walked towards the doorway, she looked up at the man who was holding her. His eyes were a bright, sunset orange; his nails, she noticed, like hers had been since after the attack, were black.

She was taken to a dim room with even more smoke hanging in the air. There was a cushion placed on the floor in front of a mirror. In the corner was a closet full of oriental-looking outfits. On a small table next to the mirror lay combs, ribbons, perfume, makeup and hair accessories.

"My, my…" Circe muttered. A woman walked in and motioned for her to sit down on the cushion. She surveyed herself in the mirror as the woman groomed and styled Circe's lovely blonde hair. The woman then put makeup on her, using powder to make her complexion even lighter than it already was. Red lipstick was painted on her plump, rosebud lips and black eye makeup was applied afterwards. A very short baby blue silk kimono with black stitching was chose from the closet for Circe to wear. When all of the preparations were made and Circe was dressed and ready, she was taken down a dark hallway and shown into a room towards the end on the left. Inside was only a bed. On the bed lay the outline of a man. Circe Duncombe was not about to suffer the humiliation and indignity of becoming a prostitute. _"Most unladylike."_ she thought as the door was shut behind her. She had no intention of giving this man what he paid for. She, instead, was going to raise hell. After all, she had been growing rather peckish over the past few months. Perhaps she would indulge in a lite-night meal, she thought as she slowly walked over to the man on the bed…

"Oh dear. What a mess I have made…" Circe said, smiling and chuckling as she emerged from the hallway, her belly rather full from all of the whorehouse's paying customers she had stopped to meet after dealing with her own. She had also killed the boss. With the Chinese man dead, the two demons no longer had any master Circe guessed that they had agreed to serve. With that, along with no real feelings of animosity towards her or the captured girls, they took what what agreed be given to them after their master's death, and simply left. She surmised that with the proprietor's death, their contract was fulfilled and they were allowed to take his soul. She had looked into such things as Faustian Contracts, also known as "deals with the devil". Any demon could partake in such a contract, which interested her.

She released all of the girls from their chains and opened the cages, setting them free. Just as Circe Duncombe was about to leave, she felt a tug on her shoulder. She turned; it was the big brown-eyed girl that had shared her cage. Her lip quivered slightly and her eyes swam with tears. She pulled Circe into a hug and whispered, "Thank you" into the blonde's ear and released her. Circe smiled, nodded, and walked out into the brisk London air.


	7. Lau's Unique Proposal

Circe Duncombe was now, once again, a powerful figure in the business world. She had initially been tempted to resume dealings with the East India Company, but sensing their years were numbered and seeing that it was undignified to affiliated herself with a company whose profits, control, and stocks had already dropped considerably, she resisted and began a freelance trading company of her own called _Camarades Dans les Affaires_. Still dealing in narcotics under the table and holding ties with the underworld players in London, she branched out and became a prominent dealer of cotton, spices, dyes and salt. Her enterprise was growing and oh, was she happy - Circe had missed the days of Seraphine Yorkshire, the savvy business tycoon. She regained her power over the commoners and began to enjoy her growing wealth and prosperity she had lived without for so many years. It gave her much pleasure to play the game of commerce and enterprise, taking part in the force which would shape the country for its future years – industry. It was now 1888 and the Queen of England was retreating back into the shadows after the death of her husband. She was a ghost of her former self. Circe disregarded the actions of royalty to be frivolous and had discovered from her centuries spent on this earth, rulers, in the grand scheme of things, had limited singular impact on a country. Thus, she stayed away from the monarchy and getting wrapped up in all of the _loyalty to the Queen_ rubbish so many of the humans bought into.

Several years before, Circe had begun dealing opium with the head of the British trading company _Kon Ron_. He had asked that she, on this particular May morning, travel down to the docks and supervise a shipment being loaded and sent off towards China on one of her cargo freights. As she readied herself that morning, she looked into her closet at all of her clothing. Only owning a handful of dresses, she had preferred her trousers, corset, boots and pirate-style shirt ensemble that had managed to suit her for the last century, inspiring her to continue to sport the style even in her regained prosperity. She sighed and before leaving, gave a final look at herself in the mirror, ensuring that her appearance was acceptable. Giving a sharp and affirmative nod, she turned and walked out the door of her manor and climbed into the carriage that waited for her at the bottom of the marble steps that lead up to the front door. The driver cracked his whip and sent the horses trotting down the gravel drive, passing the elaborate iron gate that marked the entrance to her estate, and down the cobblestone streets of London towards the docks. Once the carriage had come to a stop, Circe emerged and walked towards the man who stood on the edge of the wharf. Clinging to him was his petite assassin, Ran Mao. Circe stopped and stood alongside the man, watching as the crates of opium were hoisted by crane onto the _Camarades Dans les Affaires _company cargo ship.

"A beautiful sight, isn't it, Miss Duncombe?" the man prompted cheerfully, his head still pointed towards the ship. Circe smirked. She liked this man. He had an odd sense of humor, which usually proved amusing to her.

"Indeed, Lau." she replied, chuckling softly.

"Now," he said, turning towards her, "the reason I invited you here this morning was not to watch boxes being lifted onto your ship and sent off to distant lands, no. I was going to bring a potential profitable business proposition to your attention." Circe's eyebrow raised.

"Go on…" she said. Lau chuckled.

He leaned in closer, speaking softly, as if it were a secret; "Are you familiar with the Young Earl of Phantomhive?" She sighed and rolled her eyes slightly.

"Of course." she said.

"Well then, there you go." He smiled.

"Excuse me?" She tilted her head to the side, somewhat irritated with the man's enigmatic way of speaking.

"I brought it to your attention." he said, chuckling. Circe rolled her eyes, yet at the same time in her mind conceded that the man had indeed brought up an interesting proposition. She considered it for a moment and, gazing at Lau, said "Thank you" and returned to her estate within the city.

The next morning, as Circe as sitting at her writing desk staring out into the sky as the sun rose over the horizon, a knock sounded at her door. Having not yet hired anyone as a servant, Circe herself went down and answered the door. The messenger was slightly taken aback at the sight of the Mistress answering the door, but shook himself and handed her a letter, tipped his hat, and left. She closed the door behind him and eyed the mysterious envelope. It was an elegant black with a faint, shimmering "P" in the bottom left corner. Inscribed beautifully on the front in silver ink was "Miss Circe Duncombe". She opened the envelope, carefully undoing the bow that kept it closed, and removed a piece of thick, fine paper from inside, also holding the signature "P". It read,

_Miss Duncombe, _

_An associate of mine has brought to my attention the prospect of engaging in a prosperous business endeavor with your company: "Camarades Dans les Affaires". I am assuming he has also spoken with you regarding the subject. I hope that you are also interested in pursuing a business correspondence. I will be dropping by your estate later this afternoon where I hope to discuss this venture with you._

_Sincerely,_

_The Earl of Phantomhive_

"Well, well, well…" Circe said, smirking. "How interesting."


	8. At Last, the Game Begins

The manor was pristine; everything had been cleaned, polished, and dusted for the arrival of the young Lord Phantomhive. Circe had been cleaning, dressing and readying herself for the past hour. She never allowed a guest to think her or her residence dirty. Once she finished, she took her place in her office behind her desk, the window behind her giving a sublime view of the driveway and outside street. Several minutes later, an exquisite looking carriage rode past the gate and up to the entrance steps. Within seconds, Circe was down at the front door. Hearing someone raise their hand to knock on the wooden door outside, she opened it before their knuckles could rap on the wood. In the doorway stood two figures, both visibly surprised at the sight of the mistress of the household being the one who answered the door; the shorter was Ceil Phantomhive, and the taller was…

Circe's heart lurched...

Fury poured through her veins.

_This_ was The Man. The man she had tried to track down for two hundred and eighty-eight years. A shiver went down her spine. Her fingers twitched with anger. She glared at him. He was The Man. She couldn't believe it. Almost three hundred years of searching and one afternoon He shows up on her doorstep accompanying a nobleman…

Her muscles tensed, ready to attack and finally end The Man that had sent her into the depths of hell – quite literally.

No...

She forced herself to relax. They were her guests. _"How positively distasteful it would be to attack a guest. Keep it together... You will soon have your revenge…"_ She took a breath and tried to compose herself.

"Welcome, Lord Phantomhive. Please, come this way." She gazed down at his cute, young face and mustered a smile, gesturing inside.

"I appreciate the hospitality you are showing us on such short notice. I hope it was not an inconvenience for you." His voice was slightly monotone, yet polite. Circe offered to take his hat and coat, which he obliged hesitantly to, taking them off carefully and handing them gingerly to her. She placed them delicately on the coat hanger adjacent to the door, all the while refusing to look at The Man. For she knew that if she looked into His eyes, she would lose her control and attack, creating a most odious and inhospitable display.

"Not at all." She smiled again, still avoiding The Man's gaze, and lead them up the slightly curling staircase to the right wing and into her office. She motioned to the two plush leather seats that were placed in front of her desk as she took a seat in her chair.

Looking only at the Earl as he and his butler took their seats, she spoke, "I think it is safe to assume that our dear friend Lau has tried to set us up, don't you?" She chuckled melodically and the young Lord nodded.

"Yes. Once he mentioned the possibility of trading with your illustrious company, I was intrigued." Circe nodded in response.

"The Funtom Company has recently been attempting to expand their production into foodstuffs. Seeing as you already trade spices and the like, I think you would also benefit from a joint business relationship." His beautiful azure eye stared intently at her, awaiting her response. Circe could see The Man beside him in her peripheral staring at her as well. She smirked and bowed her head.

"A clever little Earl, aren't you." She continued to smirk. "Yes. I do believe Camarades Dans les Affaires need to expand more into foodstuffs as well. I foresee a profitable exchange between our companies." He nodded, pleased that she saw things his way.

"I have the answer I came for." he said, rising from the chair. "Miss Duncombe, come to my estate for dinner tomorrow evening and we will discuss the matter further." She smiled and nodded at the boy.

"Do you need me to show you out, young Earl?" she asked, clasping her fingers together and resting her chin on them.

"No." he said, waving his hand dismissively and walked out the door, his butler close behind. Moments later Circe heard the front door close and watched from the window as the two climbed into the carriage. However, before stepping into the carriage, The Man looked up at Circe, His eyes glinting hellishly, and smirked. He knew who she was. Circe glared at Him and, once the carriage was out of sight, smirked. _"And so the game, at last, shall begin…"_


	9. Dinner at the Phantomhive Mansion

Circe Duncombe sat silently in her carriage as she rode up to the Phantomhive mansion. It was elegant, picturesque, and harbored an atmosphere of gloom. Circe, like so many others, remembered the tragedy that had occurred three years ago, sending the entire estate down in ashes. The poor child of the Lord and Lady Phantomhive was orphaned and suspiciously disappeared for some time after the calamity. Circe felt empathetic towards the boy. He put up such a cold and strict facade, yet she knew that beneath it, he was simply a frightened little boy who, like her, craved justice for the death of his parents.

As she walked up the entrance steps to the regal-looking mansion, she wondered how she would possibly keep control over herself the entire evening. _"You have waited this long. You can wait a little bit longer."_ She nodded to herself, affirming her thoughts and feeling slightly more collected and confident. She arrived at the door and, sensing that someone was standing, ready, on the other side of it, stopped and waited for it to be opened. A second later, The Man opened the door.

"Miss Duncombe." He bowed slightly, grinning devilishly. Circe nodded curtly, her teeth clenching. "Please follow me." Neither of them spoke the entire way to the dining room, though she could tell he was smirking, humored at her hatred for him.

When they entered the dining room, Circe took a seat in the chair opposite Ceil along the considerably long dining table. The Man went into the kitchen and, seconds later, appeared with two dishes of food, which he placed in front of Ceil and her. She looked at her host and smiled.

"Seraphine Yorkshire." he said bluntly as a dastardly little grin grew on his face. Circe's smile faded. The Man, who stood behind his master, was also smiling fiendishly.

"My butler, Sebastian, seems to know you." Circe's fists clenched. Her eyes narrowed as her lip began to curl into a snarl.

"It has been a long time." Sebastian said lightly.

"Indeed. It has." she growled. She felt her eyes beginning to glow fuchsia as she desperately tried to suppress her rage.

Ceil continued, "Apparently he recognized you at once. It seems you have been living on this earth for a while now, Lady Yorkshire." Circe could not manage a single word in response. Her quick-witted retorts were no longer of use.

Getting slowly up from her chair, she bowed towards her host saying quietly, "Excuse me for a moment, Lord Phantomhive." Ceil nodded, still smirking. Circe exited the room and walked briskly through the hallway until she found herself at the entryway. _"Pathetic. I allowed a child to have the upper hand!"_ She smacked the wall with her hand. It was not, however, proper for a lady to lose control like this. So, collecting herself, Circe's eyes returned to their emerald green and she returned to the dining room.

"I apologize." she said, finding her nerve once again.

"Don't worry about it." Ceil replied, crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair. He stared intently at the woman.

"So," she began, looking at Sebastian. "your name is Sebastian." She chuckled. "I searched for you for so many years..." Sebastian's eyes narrowed and a smirk grew upon his face. Ceil spoke up.

"You look very much like your mother." Circe's stomach lurched. _"How dare you...you bastard..."_ She bit her tongue.

"So you remember." she said venomously. Sebastian bowed his head and smiled.

"Naturally. You were my first and only attempt, after all." Circe's eyebrow raised slightly.

"Attempt at what?" Sebastian looked at her, his scarlet eyes piercing into her like a knife.

"Creation." Circe's eyes widened and Ceil shifted in his chair.

"Sebastian." he said harshly. "That's enough." Turning his head back towards the woman, he said "Miss Duncombe. I was not lying when I said that I wished to discuss business matters with you this evening." Circe nodded.

"Shall we retreat to the study?" prompted Ceil, who rose from his chair and stood in the doorway, peeking over his shoulder at her. She nodded, rising from her chair and following the young Earl.


	10. Midnight Chat Among Demons

Their negotiations had proved fruitful and their agreements were in place. After several hours at the Phantomhive mansion, Ceil Phantomhive and Circe Duncombe had reached an accord. In short, she would become his business partner and together they would take the trading world by storm. Circe was pleased with what come out of the evening regarding the young Earl. However, she was not yet through with Sebastian. Unsatisfied with her inability to question him about his statements any further, she decided to go over there herself later that night when she was sure that the Earl and everyone else in the household would be asleep. Sebastian, she was sure, would be awake. _"I have no other alternative. I will not be able to speak with him privately at any other time..."_ she thought as she stood in the driveway of the Phantomhive estate. It was three in the morning. Using the back entrance to the kitchen, she silently crept inside, remembering a considerable amount of her way around from her visit only hours before. She walked from the kitchen and down what she suspected was the hallway where the servants' quarters were located. She opened one door and looked inside. On the bed lay a sleeping blonde haired man. On his nightstand lay several packets of cigarettes. _"No. Try again..." _she thought, closing the door and leaving the hallway. She did not sense him near, but she definitely sensed his presence in the house. She went upstairs to the left wing. _"Getting warmer…"_ she thought, smirking as her eyes narrowed, glinting with anticipation. Suddenly, a pair of hands grabbed her with fantastic strength and slammed her against the wall, causing her to gasp.

"And what brings you here at such a late hour, Miss Duncombe?" Sebastian whispered, his mouth brushing her ear. His voice was smooth and calm, yet Circe was not fooled by his dignified façade. Her body burned with hatred for the monster.

"You know why I am here…Sebastian…" she whispered through clenched teeth. He backed away slightly, still trapping her in his iron grasp. His face was directly in front of hers, his eyes locked with her own. _"Eyes of red and green - opposite colors...hah...opposites - somewhat fitting…"_

"It seems," he said, looking disappointed, "you could not resist." Circe glared venomously at him. "You wish to know about my _creation_."

"Yes." she replied, trying to mask her desperation. Sebastian chuckled and released her from his grip.

"Please, follow me." He turned and lead her further down the hallway to a door placed at the end on the right. He opened it and motioned for her to enter. _"His bedchamber?"_ she thought as she slowly stepped inside. Why wasn't his room placed alongside the other servants'? _"Oh."_ she thought dryly. _"Of course."_

"Please, have a seat." he said, motioning to a plush black chair that was placed in front of a small circular table in front of the window. Her eyes narrowed.

"I would rather stand." Sebastian nodded and took the seat for himself.

"Now, I take it my comments spiked your curiosity at dinner earlier this evening?" he asked in a dull, uninterested tone.

"Do not toy with me, demon." she warned. He chuckled.

"Yes. The malicious Circe Duncombe. Frankly I liked you better when you were Lady Seraphine Yorkshire. If only those pestilent humans hadn't made you change your beautiful name." Circe glared at him. "Seraphine," he continued, "translates to 'burning fire'. Fitting for a personality like yours, is it not?" She was growing extremely impatient.

"You told me that I was your fist and only attempt at creation." she began. He looked at her, resting his chin on his intertwining hands. "Elaborate." she demanded. He grinned.

"Demons can be created at will through a sacred deviant ceremony preformed by another demon. You were my first and only attempt at creating a fellow demon. And," he smiled and surveyed her. "it looks as if I was very successful." Her lip rose in a snarl.

"Now, now, how unladylike." He chuckled.

"You turned me into a monster…" she muttered, her fists clenching.

"Seraphine…you are not a monster." He said, humored. Her eyes began to swirl fuchsia. "Please, Seraphine. Do not lose control here. It may wake the young master." Her eyes widened. _"'Young Master'?...A Faustian Contract?"_ Sebastian smiled devilishly at her. She had heard enough for one night.

Well…except for one thing…

"Why did you do it?" This question made his smile dissipate and his eyes locked with hers. She stared at him coldly, awaiting an answer.

"I wanted to see if it would work. I sensed you would be a perfect candidate for my experimentation. You were a child who I knew would grow into an attractive woman; I wanted to attempt to give you the gift of immortality, to see if I could leave behind a legacy." he smiled. "You came through it impeccably, though, I must admit; and for that, I congratulate you." Circe was about to lose herself to her fury.

"Why did you kill them?..." she whispered, almost inaudibly.

"Because I was wanted to; I was hungry. Yet I singled you out as something more than just another soul that I would devour. I singled you out as something special, my dear." Circe had heard enough. She left the room, closing the door behind her, leaving Sebastian sitting in his chair, and silently walked out the front door of the mansion and returned to her home in the city, all the while mulling over what the accursed creature had said.


	11. A Guest at the Summer House

Several weeks passed and Circe had not returned again to the Phantomhive mansion. She and Ceil had begun their partnership, which had been progressing rather smoothly. She was pleased. However, her conversation with the demonic butler that night had not gone untouched in her mind. Replaying it over and over, Circe had memorized every word…ever utterance each of them had made during their discussion. She reflected upon it often, pondering further about why he had chosen her, a mere child, as his target for _experimentation_. She obsessed over it day and night, her hatred for the creature only growing.

One day, she received a letter addressed to "Lady Seraphine Yorkshire".

"How cute…" Circe muttered as she opened the envelope and removed the letter from inside. It read;

_Lady Yorkshire,_

_Lord Phantomhive will be arriving at his summer home in the inner city on Thursday. He invites you to join us there that afternoon and remain there as his guest for the duration of his stay._

_-The Earl of Phantomhive Residence_

"Interesting." she muttered, placing the letter on her desk. _"I wonder what he would be coming to London for…"_

Thursday morning arrived surprisingly quickly and Circe packed her belongings, ready to visit the Phantomhive boy. She was not particularly eager to be his guest, but felt that it was necessary to oblige in her new associate's wishes. As she climbed into her carriage, giving her home a fleeting glance before getting in, a wave of dread washed over her at the thought of being in such a close proximity with the man she so passionately hated for an unknown duration. _"Nevertheless," _she thought "_it cannot be helped. I must do what is expected of me."_ And with that, the carriage lurched forward and rode towards the Phantomhive's.

When she arrived, she tapped lightly on the door and waited outside. It was a considerably smaller residence compared to the Earl's estate in the country. She admired the blooming flowers along the walk and looked up at the sky. She frowned. Over the thin layer of smog that seemed to always hover over the city, thick, dark clouds dominated the sky. _"A storm is brewing…"_ she thought morbidly. Suddenly, a vexed looking Sebastian answered the door.

"My, my…" she said lowly, smirking at the irritated looking thing. He ignored her comment and gestured inside, also looking at the gloomy sky. When she stepped inside, noise immediately overtook her. It seemed that there were already a number of people here.

"Other guests, I assume." she said, avoiding looking at him.

"Yes." Sebastian answered, his voice tired and exasperated. Circe glared at him from the corner of her eye and walked towards the lounge where the voices seemed to be resonating from. She stepped into the room and gazed upon the scene before her. A woman dressed head to toe in red was running her hands across the shoulders of the young Earl as Lau and his petite tigress sat on the loveseat. In the corner stood an awkward, pathetic looking man with round glasses and a long ponytail.

"Ah, it seems the lovely Circe has come to grace us with her presence after all." Lau said, smiling. Circe smirked and everyone's attention was suddenly fixated on her.

"Miss Duncombe. Welcome." Ceil said, shrugging the woman in red off of him.

"Thank you." She replied, bowing her head.

"Circe Duncombe?" the woman in red said, raising an eyebrow and scrutinizing her.

"Yes. And you, I presume, are the famed Madame Red." The woman's scarlet lips formed a smile.

"I am indeed. How wonderful to meet you. I must say, I was rather surprised when my nephew mentioned his new partnership with you and your company." Circe chuckled.

"I am sure." Circe said, smiling, her eyelids closing. "Young Earl," she said, turning towards Ceil, "May I request that I be shown to my quarters? I have some work that I need to go over before dinner this evening." Ceil, seeming somewhat irritated from the sudden swarm of guests, nodded.

"Sebastian." he said firmly. The butler appeared almost instantaneously with his call.

"Yes, my lord?" he prompted in a low, melodic tone.

"Show Miss Duncombe to her room." Sebastian smirked faintly.

"Certainly." He bowed slightly to the boy and fixed his piercing eyes on Circe, motioning for her to follow him. As she walked behind him up the stairs and down the hall, her eyes remained fixated ahead while she tried to subdue the anger that boiled within her every time she went near this man. He stopped at a door towards the end of the hallway, opened it, and held it open for her to pass through. She walked past him and turned to close the door. His hand slammed against it, preventing it from moving. She grimaced.

"I expected you to show up again after our little chat. I must confess I was a bit disappointed that you never did." he said, smiling hellishly as he leaned slightly closer to her.

"As I have said before: do not toy with me, demon." She glared at him. He chuckled and took his hand away from the door, turning to leave.

"Is it a Faustian Contract?" she asked suddenly. He turned, his face betraying a look of surprise.

"Yes. It is. I have agreed to help him in his endeavors. In return, he has agreed to offer up to me his soul." Sebastian admitted, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. Circe's eyes narrowed.

"Interesting. I am sure his soul will be a delicacy. He is quite the extraordinary child." Sebastian smirked.

"Indeed, he is." And with that, he closed the door and left. Circe sighed and took out the paperwork she had brought with her and began to look it over. The sun had begun to set on the fair city of London, emitting an eerie bronze glow through the clouds that hung over the rooftops.


	12. He Likes to Play Games

Humans talked too much. Rather, _everyone_ talked to much in Circe's opinion. She, on the other hand, preferred to keep her spoken words to a minimum. She stayed rather quiet during dinner, listening closely to what the others had to say. Circe was a being who preferred silence, thus becoming very calculating and cunning throughout the years. After dinner, the group retreated to the lounge, where they held further discussions. Circe had learned that Ceil had traveled to London to investigate the nasty business of Jack the Ripper. _"My, my,"_ Circe thought to herself as the humans chattered on uselessly, _"Ceil Phantomhive is at the Queen's disposal, is he now? How cute." _Once the conversation had gone dry, the guests left, leaving Ceil, Circe, and Sebastian alone together in the lounge.

"An interesting night…" Ceil muttered, rising from his chair and heading for the door. Circe, too, rose and began to leave.

"Indeed." she murmured. Sebastian opened the door for his master and closed it after Circe had passed through the threshold.

"Goodnight Lady Yorkshire." Ceil said, turning to glance at her from over his shoulder. _"It is not wise to toy with a demon, boy. Especially me."_ she thought dryly.

"I prefer Miss Duncombe." she said, looking sternly at him.

"Of course. Then goodnight...Miss Duncombe." He went into his bedchamber, Sebastian close behind him. Circe narrowed her eyes and walked to her room. Later, during the very early hours, Circe set down her paperwork, finished for the night. She had brought as much work as she could to the Phantomhive's, thinking it would prove useful for taking her mind off things. She put her papers away in her briefcase and put the lid back on the bottle of ink. Light footsteps sounded from the hallway. _"Sebastian…"_ she thought viciously, looking up. They stopped right outside her door. She went over and flung it open to reveal an innocently smiling Sebastian standing in front of her.

"You never cease, do you?" she asked, her voice dangerously low. Sebastian merely continued smiling.

"No." he leaned forward. "I suppose not. And I do not plan to anytime soon." He chuckled as she clenched her fists.

"Now Seraphine," he began, his face emulating a pout.

"I prefer Circe." He chuckled as she glared at him.

"As I was saying…if you keep bordering on loosing control, you are simply promoting an unladylike display. Please, try and keep calm. I realize you are not particularly fond of me but…" She lost it.

"'Not particularly _fond_ of you?!'" she said furiously, cutting him off. "I despise you. You took the two most important things in the world from me while I watched. You transformed me into a vile, murderous, soul-devouring beast. You do not deserve any kindness or consideration whatsoever." He looked somewhat taken aback at her outburst, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open.

"Goodness gracious." he said, regaining his composure. A dastardly smirk grew on his face. "You certainly are full of spite. Highly unsophisticated, might I point out. Seraphine, I do not care what you think or feel regarding me. I do, however, like to play games. And I will continue to play with you, whether you like it or not. So…" he said, turning and beginning to walk down the hall, "prepare yourself, my dear." Circe stood in the doorway, staring dumfounded at his departing figure. _"So you like to play games, do you, Sebastian?"_ she thought wickedly as she closed the door and went over to the bed. _"Well I do too. And I have no intention of letting you win against me…"_


	13. Familiar Surroundings

The next morning Angelina Dalles, her butler, and Lau returned. It seemed they were going to attempt to assist the young Earl in his investigation regarding Jack the Ripper. Circe readied herself, having been invited to join them, and went down to the entrance hall to wait. Madame Red's butler was down there as well, looking pitiful, per usual. She had a strange feeling about him, as if he were not the clumsy, sad excuse for a human he so desperately tried to portray. She scrutinized him, standing silently. He looked at her nervously.

"G-good morning." he said weakly. Circe nodded in response. The others then joined them, coming out of the lounge. _"What do we have here?..." _

"Ah, the lovely Circe. Temptress of men; goddess of the island Aeaea...Homer's Odyssey. Fitting for you, wouldn't you agree?" Lau said, walking over and putting his arm around her shoulder. She smirked and shrugged him off, her eyes glinting their hypnotic emerald green.

"Lau, enough." Ceil ordered. Lau took several steps back. "I have invited Miss Duncombe to accompany us today." The group gave him a look of surprise.

"I will be leaving you all early, though, I fear." They all turned to look at the woman. "I have several documents that I need to deliver to an associate of mine in town." she said. Lau spoke up.

"Ahhh, she will be joining us in the devil's lair, will she?" he said mysteriously

* * *

"Where are we, again?" Lau asked as the cluster stood outside a mysterious looking building. Madame Red whirled around and faced him, looking vexed.

"You were just speaking as if you knew!" she yelled angrily. Circe smirked. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Sebastian was smirking as well.

"An acquaintance of the Young Master's – Undertaker." Sebastian said, his face now serious.

"…An undertaker…?"

"Are you in, Undertaker?" Ceil said, flinging the door open and walking inside the dark room. It seemed vaguely familiar.

"I have been expecting you." An also familiar voice said, chuckling. "I bid the well – come. Lord Earl." The lid from a coffin standing against the wall opened, revealing the glowing eyes of Undertaker. Circe had not heard that voice in years – not since Belladonna Fortescue had been killed in Paris. _"The same man?"_ she thought as he appeared in full form from the dark coffin. As he spoke with the Earl, her mind wandered, thinking back to her previous encounter with this man. Yes, it had to be the same man. His hair was longer and his top hat's fashion had altered slightly, but she knew it had to be the same man. He looked at her, snapping her attention back to the conversation at hand. He smiled.

"Hello again." He said through smiling teeth. She bowed her head. The others looked at her curiously.

"Now," he said, turning to the Young Earl, "Milord. Give it to me." His mouth watered as he caressed the boy's cheek with a long black fingernail. "Bestow upon me the choicest laughter! Then I shall tell you anything…"

"That creep." Circe heard Ceil mutter to Sebastian. She sighed, growing weary of the incessant speaking. She silently walked towards the door as Lau was beginning to tell an unsuccessful joke. Sebastian heard her open the door and watched, smirking, as she crept out.

In the street, she inhaled deeply and looked around. She glanced down at the briefcase in her hand and started walking towards the East End of London. There, she was to deliver several documents regarding the shipment schedule of several crates of narcotics to one of her associates who held precedence over a large crime family within the city. After her job was done, she began to walk back to the Phantomhive's. As she was passing a cluster of food stands, she felt the presence of a familiar creature behind her._ "Sebastian…"_ she thought wryly. When she had passed the stands and was in a more deserted area, she whirled around and came face to face with the man, their faces only inches apart.

"Leave me be." she hissed.

"No." he said, smiling, his eyes closed.

"Then do your job." she muttered, turning and continuing on her way towards the house.

"I have." he said, following her.

"Good for you." she growled at him from over her shoulder. But when her eyes drifted to where he was only a moment before, she saw nothing. She shrugged and turned her attention forward once again to continue on her way, but Sebastian was now in front of her, blocking her path. She scowled.

"Thought I was gone, did you?" he prompted, looking at her through narrowed eyes. She glared at him, moved around him and continued walking.

"Highly unsophisticated for an upstanding woman to deal in drugs with the Underworld, I might point out." She stopped, sighing. She would never get back to the manor at this rate.

"It really does not concern you." She continued walking once again, determined no longer to be hindered by conversation with this creature. Hearing no smarmy or quick-witted reply, she glanced behind her. He was not there. _"Not this again."_ She looked around, but did not see the butler. He was finally gone. _"Thank goodness." _When she arrived back at the house, Ceil and his guests were not yet there. She sighed and went up to her room. Taking her papers out and dipping her pen, she returned to her work. Minutes later, a knock sounded at her door and she walked over, knowing what lay on the other side of the door. She opened it and looked at him, exhausted. Sebastian chuckled.

"Would you mind helping me prepare dinner until the Young Master returns?" he asked. She looked at him, surprised.

"How unbefitting a question for a butler to ask." she answered firmly. Sebastian smirked.

"_French _cuisine would make an for interesting meal tonight, I thought. And who better to ask than you?" She looked at him, her eyes wide with shock. He seemed to known what she was thinking.

"Of course I knew, you foolish little creature. I have known of your whereabouts since that night." Her eyes fell to the floor. He continued, "I have been keeping an eye on you for many decades, now, Seraphine Yorkshire." Her head snapped up.

"I searched so ardently…" she whispered desperately, clenching her fists.

"Apparently not ardently enough." Sebastian answered dryly, and with that, he vanished.

_"All ll the while he was tracking me. How foolish I was…" _Her mood darkened and her heart became like stone. _"I will not be so foolish again."_ she thought, closing her door and returning to the writing desk.


	14. The Viscount's Ball

A plan was beginning to form among the group. According to the list of possible suspects the Young Earl ordered Sebastian to create, only one man could have been the killer – The Viscount of Druitt.

"Oh my." Circe whispered, smirking when Sebastian told them the name. Ceil glanced over at her.

"You know him personally?" he asked, looking intently at her. The other four turned to look at her as well.

"Yes." She smiled. Ceil nodded and Sebastian went on.

"He graduated from medical school. But does not work at a hospital of medicine practice. He had held several parties at his residence this season but there are rumors that he also hosts secret parties in which only he and his intimate acquaintances may participate."

"Yes, I have heard rumors that he's dabbled in black magic or something similar." Madame Red added.

"If some kind of ritual is being conducted at these 'secret parties', then prostitutes may well have been the offerings." Lau said before sipping his tea.

"Yes." Ceil looked at them all gravely. Sebastian continued.

"There will be yet another party at the Viscount's residence tonight. As The Season will soon be coming to a close, it is safe to assume that this evening will be our last and only chance to steal in…" Ceil looked at Madame Red and asked if she could secure them all invitations, to which she laughed and assured him yes, she could indeed accomplish such an easy task.

"Then it's decided." Ceil murmured. "We'll do whatever it takes to get into that 'secret party'."

* * *

Circe walked slowly as the group entered the Visount's party. The music was lovely and harmonious. It had been a considerable amount of time since Circe had worn such an elaborate dress. She slightly missed the days when Seraphine Yorkshire never showed her face without being adorned in the finest and most extravagant clothing. Her dress now was rather fashionable; olive as its main colour, cream ribbons and ruffles adorned its hems and layers, creating a beautiful, ornate display of the woman. Her champagne coloured hair was mostly pinned up, allowing several carefully selected thick wisps to flow free, curling slightly. She was beautiful…just like her mother. Stifling feelings of sentiment, she continued walking behind the group.

"You all know the plan." Ceil whispered to them over his shoulder as Sebastian escorted him through the door. They each nodded and spread out among the room. Circe stayed on the outskirts of the crowd, observing the scene carefully. She watched as Sebastian and Ceil slowly began to make their way over to the Viscount. _"Slimy little creature, he."_ she thought, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the blonde haired man in the immaculate white suit. From somewhere in the crowd she heard a grating, high-pitched voice. She looked. It was a young girl. From the corner of her eye she saw the Young Earl and his butler's expressions turn to horror. She smirked. Suddenly, she felt a slight tap on her shoulder. Turned, she saw that it was the Viscount himself.

"I thought I recognized you, my beautiful swan." He smiled charmingly. She stifled a grimace.

"Good evening, Viscount Druitt." she said tunefully.

"You do realize you are quite easy to pick out of a crowd, for you must be the most beautiful creature here." He kissed her hand as she forced a smile of thanks.

"I do not think myself as anymore beauteous than any of the other women here. There are several very attractive ones over there." She motioned with her chin to the far corner where a group of women stood whispering and gesturing to the Viscount. "And it seems there are eager to meet you." she added. The Viscount looked and turned back to Circe, looking bored and unsatisfied.

"Miss Duncombe, they hail in comparison to your exquisite looks." he groaned. "They may be the handsomest of all the other women here, but yet they are repelling in comparison to you, my lovely swan." He kissed her hand again. "It has been so long since I have seen your divine face, my dear. Where have you been hiding?" he asked, looking playfully at her. She forced another smile.

"I have been busy, dear Viscount." He pouted slightly.

"That is no excuse not to visit an old acquaintance." he scolded. "Who are you here with, my dear Circe?" he asked suddenly.

"Angelina Dalles' party." she answered and, feeling sympathetic towards the poor Earl and his desperation to get to the Viscount, added, "Her niece is visiting from out of town. You should make her acquaintance." He smiled charismatically and bowed to the woman.

"Then, for you, I shall go and meet her." He stood up and, looking faintly puzzled, asked, "Who is she, exactly?" Circe looked around, trying to find the boy. She nearly snickered when she saw he was dancing towards her and the Viscount with Sebastian.

"The girl in the lovely pink dress, dancing." she said as she leaned closer to the Viscount and whispered in his ear. The Viscount nodded and, giving Circe a final doting adieu, went to watch the Earl. She sighed, tired of all this rubbish. From the corner of her eye she saw several men walking towards her. She turned towards them, looking curious. There were three of them, one looking about nineteen or so, another probably in his early twenties, and the last one a chubby older looking man. She smiled as they approached.

"Miss…" the youngest looking one said, his face red and nervous. She raised an eyebrow at him questioningly.

"We merely came over to introduce ourselves." the gray haired man said, bowing slightly. The other two followed his example, bowing to her.

"You see," the man looking to be in his twenties said, "you have to be the finest looking woman here and…well…we wanted to make your acquaintance." She smirked. _"They never give up, do they?"_

"What is your name, miss?" the youngest asked.

"Circe Duncombe." she answered. The three's eyes widened at the prestigious name.

"I say!" the old man exclaimed.

"I had no idea we were in the presence of such an esteemed lady…" the middle one said._ "How cute."_ she thought, her eyelids lowering seductively to them. Her lips formed a bewitching smile that had hypnotized so many others throughout the centuries.

"I-I'm Richard Crossling." the youngest one stuttered timidly. "This here is my friend, Edgar Redmound. We both are students at Weston."

"Pleased to meet you." she purred. Oh how she loved toying with weak-minded men.

"And this," Richard said, gesturing to the gray haired portly man, "is my grandfather, Sir Talbus Crossling." The man smiled at her. She smiled in return and held her hand out to each of the men, which they kissed eagerly.

"What are you all doing here?" she asked, her voice tuneful and alluring. They grinned.

"Well," Edgar began, "Richard and I are on summer leave from school, just about to return. And since the Viscount's parties are legendary and he, himself, once was a student at Weston, we were able to swing an invitation." he said pompously, puffing his chest out in a proud manner. _"Adorable…"_ she thought "_They are all trying so hard to impress."_ She saw Sebastian from her peripheral, coming this way. _"Oh,"_ she chuckled to herself_. "You too, dear Sebastian?"_ She looked back at the three men, whose eyes were glued to her.

"You have a wonderful figure!" the little one, Richard, burst out, seeming as if he could no longer contain himself. His friend elbowed him sharply.

"What a boorish thing to say to such a handsome, sophisticated lady." he snapped, looking at Circe from the corner of his eye. "I apologize for my friend, Miss Duncombe. He has no control." He looked at her charmingly. His friend glared at him. The old man just stood, ogling Circe. She had had just about enough of this nonsense. Sebastian appeared behind them.

"Ah, hello there." she said pleasantly, looking at Sebastian through half-closed eyelids and cocking her head slightly. The three men turned to look at him.

"Gentlemen, this is a member of my party. He seems to have lost his Mistress." She flowed past them and walked up to Sebastian. "Allow me to assist you." She looked back at the men and waved 'goodbye' flirtatiously, leaving them standing there, their eyes glossy and drool practically escaping from the corners of their mouths. She chuckled as she walked with Sebastian to the corner of the room.

"It would seem you have a talent in seduction." Sebastian said, peeking back at the dazed men.

"Humans are weak in that area." she stated flatly. All the teasing and flirtatious nature she had portrayed just moments ago had dissipated. She was thankful Sebastian had provided her a way of escaping the fatiguing situation, but she still abhorred his presence. "You, I sense, are skilled in that are as well, Sebastian." He smirked as his eyelids lowered seductively.

"Our kind are masters at enticing mortal flesh and feelings. Because they are so easily tempted, we are able to delude them, offering to them what they most desire, which they reach for, regardless of the cost. All the while luring them and controlling them until we obtain from them what we most desire." His words chilled Circe, leaving her disliking him even more. However, deep down, she knew that what he said was perfectly true. Demons were devils; tempters and temptresses incapable of humanlike feelings. She sighed, turning her attention back to the party.

"That little girl didn't present a problem, I take it?" she asked, keeping her eyes fixated on the happy, dancing couples. _"Pathetic lovesick humans."_

"No." he responded, his gaze also on the dancers. He turned to her. Her eyes were nearly on the same level as his. For a female, she was considerably tall, he observed. She looked striking, especially when compared to all the other females in attendance. It was no mystery why men were so entranced by her. To a human, she would be considered magnificent. Sebastian, however, did not care. He merely wanted to play the game. He wanted to see if he could win against this blonde, cold hearted, enigmatic demon. After all, the journey to achieve what one wanted was half of the fun. In this case, the journey may prove challenging, yet tremendously entertaining for him.

"You look just like your mother did that night, Seraphine." Her eyes snapped and met his, looking at him with stone-like ferocity. "You should be prideful of that." he added. She looked back at the dancing crowd.

"Thank you." she said softly. He looked at her, surprised.

"Would you like to dance, Lady Yorkshire?" he asked, regaining his composure. He bowed deeply and offered his hand to her, which she tentatively accepted. They danced exquisitely. All who watched them were spellbound. Each having had much experience in dancing, they were able to keep the tempo and rhythm superbly. When the song ended, they were slightly taken aback when onlookers began to clap at what may as well have been a performance. Both smirking and studying the other through narrowed, calculating eyes, they parted.


	15. A Bewitching Encounter

On the front page of the "London Times" was printed a headline announcing yet another victim of Jack the Ripper. The Young Earl was furious. Lau suggested the possibility of either a copycat or an accomplice, which sparked Circe's intrigue. _"With an extra pair of helping hands, the job would have been easy."_ Circe, not wishing to intrude, for the Young Earl and his Madame Red had begun to play a game of chess, began to walk to the door and head to her room. Passing the suspicious butler, Grelle, she caught a whiff of his tea as she passed. _"Salt?"_ She ignored it and walked up the stairs and to her chambers. Several hours later, while she was in the midst of paperwork, a faint knock sounded on the wood of the door. She walked over and opened it and, per usual, standing in the doorway was the vile butler dressed in black.

"Sebastian." she said coldly in greeting. Rain pattered lightly against the window as a bolt of lighting illuminated the dimly lit room.

"Lady Seraphine." he answered, bowing.

"What do you want?" she asked, sighing. Her voice betrayed a tone of exhaustion.

"Having just put the Young Master to bed, I came to ask you something." She raised an eyebrow at him curiously.

"Have you now?" she asked, crossing her arms and shifting her weight to her right leg, looking at him through wicked, shining emerald eyes.

"Yes. You see," he began, closing the door behind him. "I am curious about something." He grabbed her and pushed her against the door, his arms slamming against it on either side of her. She was trapped. Her eyes narrowed at the demon who looked as if he were rather enjoying himself.

"Go on." she said through clenched teeth. He smiled and leaned in closer, his face only inches from hers.

"How did you enjoy our dance?" he asked though pointed, grinning teeth. His eyelids fell alluringly. Oh, how she loathed that villainous smile and those evil scarlet eyes.

"Do not ask me such a ridiculous question." she sneered.

"Such a fiery spirit…" he said fondly. "I chose wisely." he hummed in a deep, velvety voice.

"You are referring to…" she began, but he cut her off mid-sentence.

"You." he said, smirking. "My creation. My temptress. My devil. My, as you so choose to put it…monster." Her eyes began to turn to glowing vats of fuchsia as the fury rose inside of her. "I know you resent me for what I did to you and your family, but I do believe, my dear, that it is time to let the past go. Embrace and accept who and what you are now. Realize that it was through those occurrences that befell you, however ghastly they may have been, that have caused you to grow into the creature you are now." His eyes pacified her and her body became like liquid, melting under his gaze. His soft, melodic tone was soothing to her ears. She closed her eyes and savored every word that poured from his lips. Something was not right... _"What is this?!"_ she thought, desperately trying to shake herself from the spell. Her eyelids rose and she looked into his eyes once more. By now they too had turned to the demonic fuchsia hue. _"Those eyes…"_ she thought indignantly as she remembered looking into them through the eyes of a terrified, distraught child on that accursed night so many years ago. Instantly, she shook herself from the hex, anger surging through her veins yet again.

"Pathetic." she growled, regaining control of her both her mind and body. Sebastian looked at her, shocked. His eyes returned to their original red, yet Circe's continued to glow viciously. "You told me you cared not for what I thought of you. Yet you try so hard to alter my feelings." His arms fell from the door and he took a step back. "You charm me in an attempt to make me second guess myself." She chuckled. "It will be in vain, I assure you. The hatred I feel for you will never cease. It will burn like the fiery depths of hell, encasing you in a cocoon of vengeance and wrath." Sebastian gazed at her, stunned.

Then, regaining his composure, he smiled and said, "I shall be eagerly awaiting for what you have in mind." He moved past her and walked out the door, closing it silently behind him.

* * *

Rain pelted against her back as she crouched upon the rooftop, watching them. The Young Earl and his butler now stood around the corner of a Miss Mary Kelly's apartment – the final supposed target on Jack the Ripper's list. Suddenly, a scream sounded. Ceil and Sebastian rushed over and, opening the door to look inside, Ceil gasped at the sight before him. Sebastian grabbed him and covered his eye, almost as if he were shielding him from the evilness that lay inside. The boy staggered back and vomited. Circe smirked. She had certainly created more of a mess than that in the past.

Words were being spoken, muffled slightly by the downpour. Circe leaned closer and watched as the pathetic little butler of Madame Red poked out from the shadows of the apartment._ "My, my…"_ Circe thought as she gazed upon the man, now dripping with the blood of Mary Kelly. Grelle's expression then began to change. Circe watched intently as the butler's hair turned to red, his teeth became pointy, and his eyes turned to madness. She smiled as he made a triumphant pose. _"Adorable. A grim reaper, perhaps?"_ Yes. He was indeed a god of death, walking among the living. Behind him, Madame Red emerged from the doorway. _"What a pity." _Circe thought, standing. She listened to the conversation that ensued between the four, all the while hoping that this night would end with the Young Earl's butler ultimately expiring on the cold, wet pavement. Instead of participating in the already muddied affairs of the Phantomhive boy and his Aunt, she decided to stay and watch what, at this point, looked to be turning into an entertaining battle between the demon and the reaper.

"Excuse me." sounded a voice from behind her. The battle had drawn to a close between the butlers and, much to her dismay, Sebastian was about to make the final blow. She turned and looked at the figure standing behind her. Wordlessly, she walked past him and leapt off the rooftop. She had seen enough and wished to return home.

Once the boy and Sebastian arrived back at the house, Circe stood in the entrance hall, holding a cup of warm milk with honey. She held it out to the exhausted looking child, who looked at her, surprised.

"I feel that I may have overstayed my welcome, Young Earl. I shall be leaving in the morning." Sebastian eyed her suspiciously. "I thank you for your gracious hospitality." she added, bowing to the shivering child. Before he had a chance to speak, she was halfway up the stairs and on her way to the room to pack her things. Sebastian did not come to her room that night, of which she was exceedingly grateful for. She had no plans of returning home the next morning. Instead, she intended on traveling to France and remaining there for several months. She needed to escape London, clear her mind, and, once she was sure she was ready, she would return and continue the game with the demon she so passionately despised. Until then, she would try and free herself from the never-ending void of bitterness and hatred that had taken her by the throat and had been choking her since that afternoon Ceil Phantomhive and his demon _pet_ showed up at her doorstep. When dawn had just barely begun to light the sky and she was just about to walk out the front door, she felt Sebastian's presence behind her.

"I hope that reaper did a number on you." she muttered over her shoulder. She could sense him smirking as she walked out the door, which he shut silently behind her.


	16. He Wishes to Strike a Deal

Circe walked silently up to her front door. Vines had begun to lace up the face of the unkempt house. The garden was almost unrecognizable and weeds had sprouted everywhere. It had been three months since Circe Duncombe had been in London, having been staying in a small flat in Paris in order to help clear her head and escape from the particularly distressing events involving a particular fellow demon. She walked inside the dim, dusty manor and sighed, looking around. It would take several hours to get everything looking clean and tidy again. She walked up the curving marble staircase and towards her room. Opening the door, she turned back to grab her bags and bring them inside, only to find that they were not there. She whirled around to find Ceil sitting in a chair in front of the window and Sebastian standing beside him, surrounded with her suitcases._ "That didn't take long..."_ she thought, slightly amused at the two's presence.

"You were gone for a considerable amount of time, Miss Duncombe." Ceil commented, staring intently at her with his beautiful azure eye. She looked at him and bowed her head slightly, smirking.

"I apologize, Young Earl." He waved his hand at her dismissively.

"I trust you enjoyed your trip?" Sebastian spoke up. His voice resonating through the room in its familiar velvety tone.

"Yes." she answered curtly.

"Why did you leave?" Ceil demanded, getting up from the chair and taking several steps towards her._ "He is acting like a hurt child. Oh no, did I hurt the child's feelings?" _she thought mockingly.

"To obtain a fresh perspective." she said, shrugging. "And to clear my head."

"Paris is a long journey simply to clear one's head." Circe chuckled at the boy's comment. Indeed, he was acting like a wounded, abandoned child.

"I do apologize." she said, smiling.

"I was afraid you had changed your mind regarding our partnership. But seeing as you managed to raise our profits considerably and keep manufacturing and shipping going, I guess I assumed wrong."

"Naturally." She moved a stray hair from in front of her eye with a graceful, black-nailed pinky finger. "I never turn my back on an agreement." She smiled at the boy, her eyes soft and kind, enforcing the honesty behind the comment.

"But of course. It would be tasteless if you did not." Sebastian said, smirking. She looked at him blankly, refusing to answer his comment. Strangely, however, she did not feel like she was going to lose control. Apparently those few months away were rather beneficial…

"May I request that you join us at the mansion for dinner?" Ceil asked suddenly. Circe looked at him with slight surprise.

"Certainly…" she said tentatively, the word ebbing slowly and carefully from her lips. Why would the child wish for her presence? _"Did the little boy miss me? Oh my…how adorable." _she jeered, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked from the boy to the butler. She sighed and looked at her suitcases on the floor, still laid out neatly around Sebastian's feet. Apparently her home would remain dusty and her clothes unpacked until tomorrow. As she walked behind the Earl and Sebastian towards the front door, she stopped as the boy paused and looked around.

"You really should hire a maid." he said disdainfully, looking at the thick layer of dust that covered everything like a dingy gray blanket.

"I have not had particular luck with servants in the past." she replied, her eyes glinting darkly. The boy looked at her curiously, but did not inquire further. The three of them climbed into the carriage and they set off for the Phantomhive Estate, which lay in the countryside on outskirts of London. As the carriage traveled down the unpaved road towards the grounds, Circe looked at the two seated in front of her.

"Ceil…" she began, "you look even more cynical than the last time I saw you." Sebastian smirked and gazed at her through humored, scarlet eyes. Ceil looked harshly at her, but ignored the remark. When they arrived at the estate, Circe followed the two up the entrance steps and into the extravagant mansion. Her mind drifted to the evening she spent here several months ago. It was the evening her hatred for Sebastian had nearly boiled over; the night she learned she was his creation…his monster…his temptress…his devil…

Outside, a succession of several short barks sounded, pulling Circe from her memories. _"A dog?" _she wondered curiously.

"Sebastian." Ceil snapped. "Quiet that mutt." Sebastian nodded and, without a word, went outside. Circe was then lead to the library, where she took a seat in a lavish leather armchair opposite Ceil. Between them sat a chess set on a small wooden table. All the pieces, she noticed, were already set up, anticipating a battle of wits between their masters. Ceil shifted in his seat and her attention was torn from the board. Her eyes locked with his.

"I suppose you are curious as to why I asked you to come with us, Miss Duncombe." She smirked. _"Oh, how proper you try to be, Lord Phantomhive. Yet you are merely a frightened child using his pawns to protect himself…"_ She studied at him through stone-like eyes, remaining silent. He continued. "Sebastian has told me extensively about the past that resides between you both." Her gaze hardened. "I must say," he said, amused, "it is an interesting one." Her eyes narrowed as she continued to stare into his shimmering sapphire eye.

"Lord Phantomhive, you are being tedious." she muttered menacingly. He smirked mischievously and crossed his legs, resting his chin on his intertwining fingers.

"I wish to strike a deal with you, Lady Seraphine Yorkshire." His words resonated unpleasantly in her ears.


	17. An Interesting Conversation

She sat on the bed in a guest room that had been made up for her by Sebastian, furious. Her body was shaking with fury. _"That little bastard…"_ she thought, her eyes narrow slits of swirling fuchsia. She was almost unable to contain herself. Staccato breaths filled her lungs as her mind drifted back to the conversation she and the Young Earl shared only hours before:

* * *

_"I know your hatred for my butler runs deep, Miss Duncombe." Ceil began. "Thus, I wish to give you the opportunity to exact your revenge." She looked at him, surprised. _

_"Why?" she asked._

_"Because you and I are kindred spirits. We both seek to win the game we are playing." She narrowed her eyes at him. "And I wish to assist you in winning yours."_

_"And how do you expect to do this?" she questioned, her voice echoing disbelievingly through the room. _

_"By keeping you close." he answered simply. "I know that within time, due especially to your close proximity, you and Sebastian will claw viciously towards the finish line, both trying to defeat the other. In the end, though, only one of you will come out victorious." She shifted in her chair. __His eye narrowed cunningly as a devious smirk grew on his young, flawless face. __"And frankly, I would like to be around to see that."_

_"I am not a toy one uses for entertainment, child." she said venomously. He let out a faint chuckle._

_"But you, like me, wish to bring justice to you and your family's name." Her lip curled and a pointed tooth poked from the corner of her mouth. She knew he was right. "And," he continued, "I know that, like me, you will do whatever is necessary to exact your revenge against the culprit." She sighed and rubbed her eyes wearily._

_"Young Earl, I have just spent three months in Paris in an attempt to escape from this rubbish." she said in an exasperated tone. He smirked. _

_"But you can never escape it, can you?" She remained silent, affirming his statement as truth._

_"Sebastian is a very able butler. I am sure the game between you two will be extremely interesting to watch." _

_"Yours is a soul worthy of being called a delicacy, Ceil Phantomhive." she said tiredly, rising from the chair. "I do hope Sebastian gets his fill when your contract is up." She began to walk towards the door, but was stopped by the Earl's final words._

_"It seems our conversation had run a bit long." he said, looking at the clock. It was nearly midnight. Hardly a befitting time for a lady to be traveling alone. "You will remain here for the night." She nodded. "Sebastian will show you the way to your room." She looked up and saw Sebastian standing motionless in the doorway, waiting for her. She began to walk towards him, but paused when Ceil gave his parting words._

_ "Oh and, Miss Duncombe…" She turned and looked over her shoulder at him. "welcome to my game." He smirked. Her gaze hardened as she resumed walking behind the butler to her room._

* * *

Her mind came back to her and she glanced out the window and gazed into the dark, indigo sky. Her head snapped towards the door at the sound of a faint knock.

"Come in." she tiredly.

"Seraphine…" Sebastian whispered upon entering the room. _"Don't tell me we are going to start our nightly little conversations again…"_ she thought bitterly. She looked up and saw Sebastian smirking slightly.

"What Sebastian?" She sighed heavily.

"I was not aware of the Young Master's plan." he said simply, as if trying to prove himself innocent in the whole ordeal. Frankly, she didn't care whether he was in on it all or not.

"It does not matter." she said wearily. He nodded and took several steps towards her, causing her muscles to tense.

"It would seem you are distressed at the situation that has befallen you." he observed. She let out a dry laugh. "I suppose our game is now officially afoot." he added, chuckling lightly.

"Indeed." She looked at the floor, thinking. _"You allowed a child to take the upper hand, Circe. How pathetic."_

"What do you suppose we do about it?" Sebastian asked firmly.

"Play the game." she said, shrugging.

"And who, do you suppose, will come out the victor?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking, looking amused.

"I do not know…" she whispered, still gazing intently at the floor.

"Well, I wish you the best of luck, Lady Seraphine." He smiled and bowed. She looked up a second later and he had vanished.


	18. Curious Crimes in London

She felt like a pawn, used only to entertain the little boy. If only he did not belong to Sebastian…otherwise she would show him what happens to those who choose to toy with demons. She sighed and readied herself, putting on her clothing that Sebastian had washed the night before. Dawn had broken about an hour ago and the sky had begun to shine its beautiful baby blue. The sun's rays shined magically across the new fallen December snow that lay like a blanket across the grounds. When she was ready, she went down to the library. There, she looked through the books that Ceil had on the shelves. She skimmed through the titles, looking for one that sounded interesting. Not able to find one that peaked her interest, she went over to the grand piano that sat in the corner of the room. The ivory keys glistened beautifully in the morning light. She sat at the bench and put her fingers lightly on the keys, feeling their cold, smooth surface. She smiled and closed her eyes, reminded of the days when she was Lady Seraphine Yorkshire, spending hours studying numerous subjects and skills every day. As the years went on, she became extremely knowledgeable in writing, mathematics, reading, history, and language. Among her more recreational studies were fencing, fighting, and playing both the piano and violin. She had managed to master these subjects with ease, turning her into a rather well-rounded, elegant young woman. She sighed blissfully and, looking to see that there was no one around, began playing. Her fingers rushed with delicacy and skill across the keys, creating the most harmonious and wonderful of sounds. She closed her eyes, allowing her fingers to move freely, envisioning them as individual pieces of a puzzle that must be put together with craft and strategy in order to see the entire picture. Her lovely plump pink lips curved into a charming, peaceful smile. For the first time in many years, she was truly calm. Once her finger touched the last note, putting the final piece into the elaborate puzzle, her eyes opened and she found Sebastian standing in the threshold, smiling at her.

"Beautiful." he said in a soft tone that rung pleasantly through the room, mixing harmoniously with the final note whose tune still hung delicately in the air. She bowed her head in thanks, smiling. He walked over and stood at the end of the piano, gazing at her. "Play another." he whispered. She obliged, her fingers once again floating across the line of ivory keys. The tune was one she had learned as a child nearly three hundred years ago. It personified the years of her youth, mixing cheerful sounding notes with melancholy ones, ultimately crafting an exquisite, elegant melody that nearly managed to bring tears to her eyes. Oh how she missed being Seraphine Yorkshire… The song ended and she looked to where Sebastian had been standing at the end of the shining black instrument, but he was not there. She smirked as she felt his shallow breaths tickle the nape of her neck.

"Exquisite." he breathed.

"Sebastian." she whispered, her voice seductive as she took her fingers from the keys and set them on her lap.

"Yes?" he answered, his voice bordering on intoxicating.

"You are not alluring me in the slightest." she said flatly, laughing. This demon could try as hard as he could, but his charm would never phase her. Try as he might, she was determined never to develop any soft feelings towards this creature whatsoever. She turned and met his eyes. He smirked and left the room, no doubt headed to wake the sleeping child upstairs. She looked fondly back at the keys and, rising from the bench, sighed and began to wander the mansion. Feeling very contented, she hummed as she meandered through the corridors of the lovely and extravagant residence. About half an hour later, the Young Earl came downstairs. He was dressed in a top hat and coat, obviously planning on going out. He walked down the marble staircase and towards the door, his face stoic and deep in thought. He looked at her, which brought him from his thought-filled state.

"I have been called to investigate a number of peculiar crimes that have been occurring in London. During the investigation we will be staying at the manor within the city limits." he explained, his voice groggy. _"My, my." _Circe thought, _"Children should not stay up past their bedtimes, should they?" _She chuckled silently to herself. "I invite you to join us." he added. She looked down at him, slightly amused.

"It would seem you enjoy my presence, Young Earl." She laughed and Ceil brushed off the comment.

"Do you wish to accept my offer?" he asked. She shrugged._ "Why not?"_

"I do." she answered and followed them to the carriage. This was a larger one, able to transport at least six more people. When she climbed inside after the boy, she noticed three others walking towards them.

"Your servants?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow and peeking at the boy through the corner of her eye. He sighed exasperatedly.

"Regrettably, yes. They cannot be trusted to stay here alone, you see." He rubbed his eyes tiredly. They first stopped at the manor, dropping off the three servants who had been surprisingly quiet the journey there. The three got out and took their luggage from the rack above the car and walked inside. The whip sounded once again and they set off towards a new destination. Next, the carriage pulled up to the restaurant Hindustani where a handful of men hung upside down from their feet, dangling in front of the entrance. The wheels slowed to a stop and Sebastian rose, getting out, and held the door open for the two. Once the three of them stood on the street, Circe glanced at the dangling people, smirking. _"How humiliating…"_ She turned to the boy, opening her mouth to speak.

"I will meet up with you later." He raised an eyebrow at her and Sebastian glanced at her curiously from behind his shoulder. Without another word, she began to walk down the block, leaving the child to his business. Her manor was only a fifteen minute walk from the restaurant, so she took her time and enjoyed the quiet, peaceful stroll. She glanced to her left and right, watching people in thick, warm coats breathe wisps of white steam. They all looked rather content, despite the unforgiving December nip in the air. Most of the snow, she noticed, had melted from the night before, leaving muddy puddles scattered haphazardly around the streets. When she arrived at her home, she walked inside and went up to her chambers. She took out a few pieces of luggage and began packing corsets, tight-fitting pinstripe trousers, shirts, boots, and several dresses into them. When she was finished, she grabbed the three cases and left. Figuring she had time to spare, she began to walk towards the East End. While walking down one of the avenues, she heard a commotion from around the next block. Curious, she silently walked over and looked around the corner. _"My, my." _she thought, amused at the sight that lay before her. _"Always getting yourself into trouble, aren't you, Young Earl?"_ Ceil Phantomhive stood with Sebastian and Lau, trapped within a circle of Indian men who looked to be harassing him. She laughed quietly to herself, which caught Sebastian's attention. She narrowed her eyes at him, which he returned. Each of them wore a smirk. She waved at him and turned around, starting towards the Phantomhive manor.


	19. The Rescue

Darkness had overcome the sky by the time Ceil and Sebastian returned to the manor, brining Lau along with them. Circe however, did not come down to greet them. Nor did she address the unexpected guests, Prince Soma and his man, Agni, when they arrived. Sebastian, after everything had settled down and the Young Master had been somewhat pacified, snuck away from the guests for a moment and went to Circe's guest room. He knocked and waited in the hallway. Several moments passed and there was no answer. Gingerly, he opened the door and peeked inside the room. On the floor were three packed suitcases sitting neatly in a row. Circe, however, was not there. Perplexed, Sebastian closed the door and returned downstairs to his Master and their guests. Later that night, in the early hours of the morning, when everyone in the manor had gone to sleep, Sebastian walked out the front door and into the snow-filled darkness that enveloped London. He sighed, wondering where she could have gone. He saw faint traces of several sets of footsteps, nearly buried beneath a thin layer of freshly fallen snow. He managed to pick hers out, the only high heeled print in the bunch, and began to follow it. As he followed the trail of footsteps left by this cold, calculating, enticing demon, his mind wandered to a conversation he had with the boy the night that Circe had snuck to the estate late at night to speak with Sebastian:

* * *

_"She, too, is a demon?" Ceil asked, greatly intrigued. He sat behind his desk, the afternoon sunlight highlighting his outline. Sebastian stood in front of his desk, staring at the young Earl. He bowed his head slightly and answered the young boy's inquiry. _

_"Indeed." Sebastian answered gravely. _

_"You two have a past?" Sebastian smirked at the question. _

_"Yes." he answered simply. Sensing the Earl's impatient curiosity, he continued. "You see, demons are created...sometimes by other demons. That is what Seraphine Yorkshire is – a successful experiment to turn a human child into a demon." The child's eye slightly widened in surprise. _

_"You continue to surprise me, Sebastian." the boy said, smirking, and sipped the steaming cup of tea that laid on the corner of his desk. He continued, setting the cup back down on the saucer. "Her hatred for you intrigues me. I would much like to see her try and exact her revenge." His lips were still formed into a devious smile. Sebastian smirked._

_"As would I, Young Master." _

_"Sebastian," Ceil began, tapping his chin lightly with his index finger. "I want you to play a little game with her." Sebastian's eyes widened slightly in curiosity._

_"A game, Young Master?" he asked._

_"Yes. Toy with her. Use every asset you posses." Ceil said firmly. "This woman could potentially hinder our movements and actions. By you playing with her, that preoccupies her so that she cannot present problems for us." Sebastian nodded. The boy was correct, after all. If she had spent so long in tracking him down, only to find him practically living next door, she would attempt to exact revenge. By preoccupying her and toying with her a little, he may be able to change her tone and morph her into more of an asset than an obstruction. _

_"This should prove interesting…" Sebastian muttered, smirking, already pondering how he would go about the situation._

_"My thoughts precisely." Ceil affirmed, smirking as well. "I expect to be thoroughly entertained, Sebastian." he added. Sebastian bowed to him slightly._

_"Yes, my lord." he said melodically as a positively wicked smile crossed his lips._

* * *

Sebastian smirked as he remembered this conversation between him and the young Earl. He had made several attempts to woo and soften her thus far, but in retrospect, they were to no avail. No matter. He would simply try harder in his attempts with his pretty little creation. Her footprints were taking him to the East End of London, he noticed. Perhaps she had gone to deliver a message or papers to one of her Underworld affiliates… No, he thought as he watched three sets of large footprints come from the shadows and meet up with the woman's before him. She must have been taken. He continued to follow the group of now four sets of footprints down a deserted neighborhood street. At the end of the road he saw a rickety, dingy looking three story home with the lights shining through the windows. The band of footprints lead up to the front door. His eyes narrowed. No one would take his plaything away from him…

He was on the roof, peering carefully through a dormer window that lead to the attic. Circe was on the floor, bleeding badly. She looked awful, frankly. Three men were guarding the attic's escape, most likely the owners of the footprints he saw ambush Circe's. They were large, burly, and rugged looking. Just then, a shorter, thinner man entered the room and motioned towards the men and then to Circe, saying something to them. Sebastian's eyebrow cocked slightly as he waited to see what would happen. Snow tickled his face, leaving small watermarks on his cheeks, nose, and forehead as he gazed upon the scene before him. The four men began to close in on Circe. The leader removed a hand from his leather glove and, looking closer, Sebastian noticed his nails were black. His eyes narrowed. Not wanting anymore harm to come to his toy, he broke through the little window, which was just large enough for him to slink through, jumped and landed on the wooden floor of the dusty attic with a light _thud. _The four men stumbled back in surprise. He smiled at them and lifted Circe, draping her body over his shoulder. His eyes quickly wandered about the room, looking for a practical exit. The senses had come back to the men and they were now yelling and starting after him. Sebastian sighed and leapt through the open door in the floor, flew down the small staircase in the building, and sped through the front door. As he sped down the street, Circe's body dangling and flopping about, he listened to see if the men were behind him. Only one – the man who looked to be the leader. He glanced over his shoulder. The man was fast, and was about a half a block behind Sebastian, and gaining.

"My dear Seraphine," he muttered, turning his gaze back in front of him, trying to pick up more speed. "you cause me so much trouble…" He looked back and saw the man was still on his tail. Sebastian sighed heavily and slowed to a stop. He threw Circe's limp body in a heap on the ground and prepared for a fight. The man came to a stop in front of him.

"Evenin'." said the man pleasantly.

"Good evening." Sebastian echoed.

"Do you mind if I have that back?" the man asked, thrusting a black finger nail at Circe's body. Sebastian smiled warmly at him.

"No, I am afraid not." The man looked slightly surprised at him, but shrugged.

"Then I'm just plum outta luck, then, aren't I?" he said rhetorically, rubbing the back of his neck and furrowing his eyebrows together.

"Yes, I am afraid so." Sebastian smiled at him again and turned to pick up the woman from the pavement.

"Shit." the man muttered. "Now I'm gonna get it for all the ruckus you've caused…and I didn't even get what I needed from the bitch…" He sighed unhappily, his mouth turning downwards into a frown. Sebastian glanced at him. Obviously he was not willing to put up a fight for the lady, which was good. But what he said still peaked Sebastian interest. The man turned and left, ending what Sebastian thought was a very anticlimactic evening. Flinging Circe's body back over his shoulder, he sped off towards the manor. When he arrived back inside, he went up to her guest chambers and laid her on the chair in the corner. Dried blood encrusted much of her face, body and clothes. He looked at her, humored, as she gently opened her mesmerizing emerald eyes and gazed upon his face, at which her expression hardened immediately.

"You have caused me much trouble this evening, Seraphine." he whispered into her ear. Her eyes narrowed, but she did not speak. Leaning back, he stopped and surveyed her. The wounds were still present, but were gradually fading. Hopefully she would have enough sense to not get on the bed and get blood on the sheets…

Their eyes locked and her plump, pink lips parted gently as a faint "Thank You" escaped them. Sebastian smirked, stood, bowed, and walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.


	20. Venomous Words

Circe woke the next morning, still sitting in the chair Sebastian had placed her in the night before. She heard screaming resonating from the Earl's bedchambers. She rose, her body stiff from the night before, and walked to the bathroom. She was a mess. Dried blood covered her from head to toe, encrusted even in her hair. She sighed and drew a bath. Removing her garments, she slipped into the water and began to rub the blood off her skin. After she was clean, she slipped out of the water, drained the tub, and walked into the bedroom to retrieve her clothes. They weren't there…neither were her suitcases. _"What is this?" _ she wondered irritatedly, glancing around the room, trying to find her belongings. She felt a presence behind her. _"You…" _She whirled around, her nose almost brushing his. Her fiery emerald eyes piercing through him. He smirked and gazed at her nude figure. She had a alluring body; large breasts and buttocks, thin waist, a curvy figure, and skin like delicate porcelain. His skin twitched in temptation.

"Good morning, Seraphine." he said, smiling and returning his gaze to her eyes. Her lip curled in hatred and disgust.

"Don't play games with me, demon." she snarled. "Where are my things?" He chuckled.

"My, my. Angry, aren't we? Is that any way to thank the man that saved you last night?" Seraphine drew closer to him, their faces but an inch apart, their skin almost brushing against each other's. She lifted her chin slightly in the air, glaring at him.

"You are no man, Sebastian Michaelis." she growled dangerously.

"And you are no woman, Seraphine Yorkshire." he said, his eyes narrowing. They began to glow fuchsia as pointed teeth appeared in his smile. "You try so desperately to pretend as if you are a sophisticated human. Do not do yourself the disservice, my dear. You will never be ordinary." In the blink of an eye, he had her shoved against the wall. She tried to shake free of his hold, but to no avail for he was considerably stronger than her. His grip tightened and he chuckled darkly_. _"You speak of taking revenge upon me, dear Seraphine." He leaned in closer, his breath tickling her cheek. "How, exactly, to you propose to do that? I have been waiting for a while now and…to my surprise…you have not yet tried to fulfill your vow. What is the matter, my dear?" He smirked. "Are you unable to avenge your family's name?" Her eyes began to glow demonically. "Are you too weak to do so?" She grit her teeth.

"How dare you." she whispered furiously. "How dare you say such blasphemy against a family and a bond you, yourself, obliterated." He smiled.

"How dare I?" his gazed drifted across her face. "How pathetic." Her eyes widened in surprise. His grip tightened even more. "You chase me for centuries, looking to take revenge. But when I appear on your very doorstep, you are unable to do what you vowed to do on that very day. That night, I made you a devil. A supreme hellish being. I graced you with the gift of immortality, strength, and unfathomable power. _How…dare…you…_you selfish, ungrateful, incompetent creature." She gasped quietly. His eyes narrowed and he continued. "Either be thankful for the gift I so graciously bestowed upon you all those years ago, or muster the strength to avenge your family's death." She stared at him in disbelief, her mouth agape with shock. "You live by a useless code of elegance and sophistication. Thus, you will _never_ have the power to exact your revenge." He pouted mockingly. "Pitiful." She was unable to speak. Unable to respond to his venomous words that cut her so deeply. She knew he was right…She would never be able to take her revenge if she refused to go against her rules and limitations. But they were all she had. All her being and integrity resided within the boundaries of that code. Her shoulder slumped, defeated. Her eyes ceased to glow and drifted to the floor. Sebastian looked at the woman, smirked, and went away to tend to the boy. She fell to the floor in a crumpled, vanquished heap.

Three days passed and Circe still lay on the floor. On the third night, she finally mustered the strength to get up off the ground and stumble over to the bed. On the other side of it, on the floor, lay her suitcases in a neat row. She smirked and rummaged through them, getting out her clothing. When she was readying herself and getting dressed, an interesting odor crept into her nose. Curious, she quietly left her chambers and followed the smell down towards the kitchen. She stepped through the threshold and was immediately overcome by steam and scents. Sebastian stood in the far corner, mixing what looked to be spices in a large, metal pot. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and smirked.

"Apparently my words stung you rather badly." he commented, throwing a dark brown spice into the pot and stirring. "I do apologize."

"Do not apologize to me." she retorted. "You are unable to be truly apologetic of anything." He smiled and turned to her.

"I do not lie, Seraphine." She ignored his comment and walked over to the steaming pot.

"…Curry?" she whispered, curious, as she looked into the deep orange colored chunky liquid.

"Yes." He continued to add more spices. "It seems the Young Master and our new houseguest from India wish for the Funtom Company to win the Royal Warrant at the upcoming competition at the Crystal Palace."

"Yes, I have heard about that. An Indian Exhibition at which a contest for the best curry will be held." She glanced at the dozens of spices that lay in bowls across the counter, their earthy tones coinciding together tastefully. "Interesting."

"Indeed." Sebastian nodded, still stirring and adding more spices to the pot. She sighed and turned to leave. But, before she walked out the door, Sebastian spoke. "You are rather unpredictable. Every moment we are together I am not sure whether you are going to be pleasant or not." She glanced back at him and walked out.


	21. Parting Words

Circe had insisted the Earl and his company go on the curry competition without her, for she still had a considerable amount of paperwork to do. It was now eleven thirty in the morning. Finished, Circe sighed and put her papers away into her briefcase, gazing out at the clouded, smog-filled London sky. She grabbed her coat and began walking towards the Crystal Palace, which was not very far from the Phantomhive Manor. When she arrived, she was instantly overwhelmed with the smell of curry and the sound of the onlookers. The judging was almost over and the deliberation was about to begin. Circe walked around and looked at the displays of statues, foreign animals, and other sorts of Indian-esque showcases. She eventually meandered over to where the Earl, Lau, Ran Mao, and a younger looking Indian gentlemen stood, watching and listening carefully to what the judges had to say. She chose to distance herself rom them, not wanting to impose on their little 'group,' and continued to walk around and see the sights. Her eyes caught a glimpse of Sebastian standing on the platform next to the other chefs. She grit her teeth and walked briskly by. About fifteen minutes later, the announcer came up to the podium, ready to give the winner. It was not the Funtom Company. Circe smirked devilishly when Sebastian, the Young Earl and his company's faces fell at the loss. Suddenly, great commotion began to rise. Circe turned and saw the gray-haired, senile old bat the English called a Queen as she appeared on a magnificent horse, making what Circe viewed as a ridiculous display of herself. _"Over actor." _Circe thought to herself bitterly. She did not care for the Queen; she was a grief-stricken woman who's mind had fallen into insanity. Circe was not impressed by her in the least, unlike her young, blue-eyed business partner so fondly referred to as "The Queen's Watchdog." Circe grimaced when the Queen grabbed the Royal Warrant Award from the announcer's hand and handed it to Sebastian, naming the Funtom Company the official winners of the curry cooking competition. Circe narrowed her eyes and left the Crystal Palace, heading towards the Phantomhive manor.

* * *

By the time Ceil returned home with Sebastian and the two Indian men who had been staying with them for the past several days, Circe was standing in the entrance hall, smiling. Ceil stopped.

"Congratulations, Young Earl." she said melodically, bowing to the child. He nodded curtly in thanks. Circe straightened and looked at the two foreign gentlemen standing behind the boy. "Hello, my name is Circe Duncombe. I do not believe I have had the pleasure of meeting either of you." She smiled charmingly and lifted her hand towards the men, who each kissed it and smiled.

"Hello Miss Duncombe." said the taller, white haired gentleman. He smiled and put his hand over his heart. "I am Agni. This," he motioned towards the younger man, "is Prince Soma." The prince beamed at her.

"A pleasure." she said, smiling and making a small curtsy.

"May I please discuss something with you in the lounge, Miss Duncombe?" Ceil spoke up suddenly. Circe turned to him and nodded, motioning for him to lead the way. The Indian gentlemen turned and walked up the stairs, giving Circe a final smile and wave 'goodbye', leaving Sebastian, Circe and Ceil. Ceil lead them to the lounge and, once inside, took a seat in one of the luxurious ebony leather armchairs. He motioned for Circe to sit, which she obliged to. Sebastian remained standing, his calculating eyes glancing from his master to the woman.

"We are leaving tomorrow for the mansion." Ceil began, resting his chin on his outstretched little index finger. "I will call for a carriage in the morning to take you home before we depart." Circe's face displayed no emotion. She simply nodded in understanding.

"I appreciate the hospitality you have shown to me, Ceil Phantomhive." Ceil waved his hand dismissively. "You kindness will not go unrewarded, I assure you." she added warmly.

"Have you heard of the Noah's Ark Traveling Circus?" he asked suddenly. Circe looked at him curiously.

"No." He sighed. "Why?" she asked. He did not answer. She shrugged and rose from the chair, leaving the Earl and his butler.

* * *

It was three in the morning and Circe lay naked on the plush bed in her room. Her bags were packed for her departure tomorrow and her clothes were lain out on the ottoman, which sat at the foot of the bed, reaching about five feet in length. She gazed at the walls, their surface covered with dancing shadows from the candles she had lit around the room. She sighed contentedly and closed her eyes. A knock sounded at her door.

"Come in." she called from the bed. Sebastian opened the door and came into the room, closing it behind him. He gazed at her laying, naked, on the bed.

"A peculiar display." he commented with a smirk, tilting his head. Circe's lip curled, exposing her pearly teeth.

"Our kind care not about such things as this." she justified simply, her voice a flat, unfeeling tone. Sebastian nodded.

"I must admit that I will miss our nightly conversations." His eyes gleamed in the candlelight.

"I must confess that I will not." she replied dully. Sebastian shook his head.

"You try so hard to keep the fury concerning me boiling inside you, don't you, my dear?" She sat up and looked fiercely at him.

"Silence." she hissed, her voice betraying a dangerous tone. Sebastian chuckled.

"So easily riled, you are." he said fondly. Shadows bounced across his face from the flickering candlelight. She, refusing to answer, lay back down, her head falling softly on the plush, ornate pillow. "Why were you kidnapped?" Sebastian asked suddenly. She raised her head several inches to peek at him.

"That is no concern of yours."

"I should think it is, actually." He smirked. "I did have to rescue you, after all." She glared at him.

"I never requested to be rescued." she spat.

"And yet I put myself on the line for a houseguest's safety. Thus, I ask again." He walked over to the bed. "Why were you kidnapped?"

"Like the child, I do dealings with dangerous people." she answered, shrugging her shoulders. "I would think the concept of Underworld affiliations would not be foreign to you, Sebastian Michaelis." He smirked. Her spiteful answers and easily angered nature amused him greatly. Oh, how he loved to play with his toy.

"What did those particular people want with you?" he questioned, leaning in closer to her.

"I have something they need." she said simply.

"You are so hard to drag information out of, my dear." Sebastian smirked and leaned closer. Their faces were now only inches apart.

"Nevertheless, I thank you for rescuing me." He blinked at her. "Though I did not require it." she said smugly, lifting her chin in the air and turning her head away from him slightly. He took her chin in between his fingers and turned her to face him once again.

"You should not act so arrogantly." he muttered, his breath tickling her cheeks and nose. She blinked. "It is not ladylike, after all." She narrowed her eyes at him. His hand gently caressed her cheek. She flinched slightly at his touch, but soon relaxed and continued to glare at him viciously. He smirked and looked at her through half-closed eyes. They gleamed seductively. "Such a proud creator, I am." he whispered. She bared her teeth at him.

"I swear, Sebastian Michaelis, I will have my revenge." she whispered, her voice full of hatred. He chuckled quietly and stood, looking at her body once more, which she took notice of. "Enough of that." she spat. He laughed.

"Do not worry, my dear. I am not tempted in the least." he assured, turning and taking a step towards the door. "One more thing." he said as he reached for the door handle. He turned and glanced at her over his shoulder. "If you do so choose to take your revenge, I must ask that you not do it in front of the Young Master. A savage such as yourself might create an odious display." And with that final insult, he left. She looked at the door, her mouth agape, dumbfounded at the butler's audacity.


	22. Her Long Awaited Revenge

Circe stood at the doorway to the Phantomhive mansion on the outskirts of London. The day way fairly cloudy, every now and then allowing the sun to poke through the veil of clouds and reach its rays across the land. In her hand, Circe held a book. Gingerly, she rang the doorbell. It had been some time since she had seen the Earl. It was like he had just disappeared, leaving no word, trace, or information as to his whereabouts to her or anyone else. She thought back to the last time she had seen him; it was the day after the curry contest, when she had met the two gentlemen from India who had been staying with the boy. The door opened, yanking her from her thoughts. Sebastian stood in the doorway, looking utterly surprised.

"Lady Yorkshire?" he whispered in slight disbelief.

"Duncombe." she corrected sharply. She glanced inside and back at him. "May I come in?"

"Yes." the butler said, shaking himself. He held the door open for her and closed it behind her.

"I heard the Earl has returned from the dead." she said, smirking. Sebastian smiled faintly. "I also hear he is ill. So," she lifted her hand and showed him the book, "I came to give him this." Sebastian blinked.

"I am sorry, Miss Duncombe, but the Master is still asleep. He has suffered from a severe relapse in asthma symptoms and has been bedridden since we returned."

"Returned from where?" she asked, raising a thin blonde eyebrow at him. Her pink lips upturned into a small smile, waiting for his answer.

"His latest investigation."

"I see." Circe said, disappointed at Sebastian's purposeful lack of details. "Shall I return tomorrow then and give him my gift?" She tilted her head questioningly.

"That will be fine." Sebastian smiled and bowed, opening the door for her.

* * *

The next day, Circe returned to the mansion. It seemed that today, the Young Earl was well enough to receive her. She carefully opened his bedchamber door, making sure as to make no noise, and walked over to the Earl, who sat upright in bed, dressed in his nightshirt.

"Miss Duncombe." he said in greeting. She made a small bow and smiled.

"I hear you are feeling better, Lord Phantomhive." He waved his hand dismissively.

"I suppose." he muttered.

"I have brought you something." She pulled the book out from behind her back and handed it to the boy, who took it gingerly. He examined the cover, and then the inside, flipping quickly through the pages as if to get a feel for the object. He looked up at her, his right eye uncovered, revealing the seal of a Faustian Contract.

"The Count of Monte Cristo?" he asked.

"Yes." she said warmly. "I did not see it on the shelf in either of your libraries, and I thought it epitomized the very essence of the both of us, Young Earl." He looked at her curiously. "It is about a man who is betrayed and suffers greatly, vowing to do whatever it takes to take revenge upon the ones that ruined his life and caused him to lose his faith in God." He blinked, surprised. She chuckled. "I do hope you enjoy it." She put her hand on his head for a moment, sighed, and began to walk towards the door.

"Thank you." she heard faintly from behind her. She peeked over her shoulder at the child.

"Your welcome. Do tell me if you find it enjoyable, will you?" She smirked and left the room.

* * *

Circe was running, leaping across rooftops in the dark over the city of London. She was being chased by the same men who had kidnapped her several months earlier – the ones Sebastian had saved her from. They wanted her desperately. Moreover, they wanted what she had in her possession – a key to a warehouse on the wharf in the East End. Inside the warehouse contained a variety of things: crates of experimental narcotics, general explosives, and several stacks of documents, serving as records and sources of information regarding all of the gang and drug lords in London - useful for blackmailing. These men, who had kidnapped her and were chasing her, worked for a particularly slimy character named LeMaude who owned a small chain of opium dens across the city. He was in competition with Lau, and desperately wanted to come out on top. To do this, he sought to take out all potential competition; thus the reason for wanting the records inside the warehouse. He also was a highly stupid, lazy, unimaginative fellow without the ability to create any signature profitable drug product; thus the reason for him to want the crates of god-knows-what that lay inside the warehouse. He wanted these things desperately, and Circe had the key.

She leapt down onto the street, only to realize that, looking around, homes and buildings were becoming slightly more scarce the further she went. The one man from before was gaining on her, leading her into a forest nearby. She looked around at the familiar surroundings and realized something. _"This is close to the Phantomhive Mansion…"_ That was the last place she wanted to be, so she decided to keep him trapped in the forest if she could, preventing him from getting any nearer to the residence. She stopped and turned, waiting for him and for a fight. Her muscles tensed as she resumed a fighting position, ready to protect her underground affiliates from the hands of LeMaude. A small cloud of dust followed the man as he quickly scrambled through the forest, trying to reach the woman. Seeing her stopped in the clearing, he halted, standing about twenty meters away from her. In a flash, he sped towards her and lunged, aiming to knock into her and tackle her to the ground, but she dodged and managed to avoid his outstretched fingers at the last second. He whipped around and made his second attack, lunging towards her, his hands balled into little fists. She caught him and threw him to the ground with a thud. She chuckled and, her fingers forming a flat, dagger-like shape, punctured through his sternum with her hand into his chest cavity, like Sebastian did to her mother all those years ago. Her one hand feeling around in the warm abyss of the man's chest, she used her other hand's fingers to puncture through his throat and tear it open. Blood spilled everywhere as Circe removed her hands from inside the creature's body and stood, watching him choke and suffer through the pain. From behind her, she heard someone clapping. Her head immediately snapped up and she whirled around, her eyes resting on the butler.

"Impressive, Seraphine." Sebastian said, chuckling. "I am sure your mother and father would be very proud." She grit her teeth. This was her chance; her chance to, at last, have her revenge upon the man who ruined her life. She re-assumed a fighting position and glared at the butler through venomous emerald eyes. He chuckled. "My, my. Have you mustered the strength and courage to finally take your revenge, Seraphine?"

"Yes." she hissed, fury pouring through her voice and veins.

"Pathetic." Sebastian jeered, wrinkling his nose and narrowing his eyes at her. With that, something snapped. Her eyes became like glowing orbs, her teeth became pointed, and she lunged at Sebastian, her movements full of a rage she had never known before. Her body quivered with hatred in each swipe and kick she made at him. He merely dodged, refusing to fight back.

"Fight you coward!" she screamed, kicking at his head. He grabbed her ankle and threw her to the ground.

"I see no reason to fight, Seraphine. It is apparent neither of us will die. What do you hope to gain from this?" She scrambled off the ground and stood, ready to continue her attack. He cocked his head, "Self satisfaction?" She yelled and lunged at him again, this time taking hold of him and bringing him to the dusty ground with her. She began tearing her shiny black nails into him, all the while loosing herself to her true form. Her figure thinned to an almost skeleton-like width, a tail appeared from behind her buttocks, shiny boots began to form up her thighs and calves. Her long blonde hair disappeared, her fingers became like claws, her skin's color became a sickening shade. She no longer looked human. She no longer looked beautiful. She was merely a monster now – the monster this devil that lay beneath her had transformed her into when she was only eight. She had lost all control; both of herself and her mind. She still sat on top of Sebastian, tearing into his immortal flesh, creating a bloody mess of the butler. She did not care if they could not die. No. This was indeed, like he said, for her own self satisfaction. Tears began to form in her eyes. _"Tears?" _she thought angrily. They were tears of hatred, loss, abandonment, loneliness, and anger that had all built up for the past two hundred and eighty eight years. She could no longer keep them in. This man, no…this _monster_, had taken away all that she had cared about in the world. He had transformed her into a creature from hell, damned to suffer until the end of eternity. She had searched so long for him so that she could take her revenge. It was because of him that she was alone in the world. Immediately, she stopped attacking Sebastian and, throwing her head into the air, let out a heart-wrenching, wretched wail, making audible all the pain she had suffered over the past centuries. She flopped on the ground, exhausted and miserable, her eyes still producing salty tears. She regained her mind and control over herself, returning to her human form. Sebastian lay beside her, the majority of his flesh torn off his body, which lay haphazardly all around him along with miscellaneous bits of organs. Circe had definitely done a number on him. It would take a considerable amount of time before he had healed from these injuries. Circe looked at his bloodied mass and, sighing, lay beside him, her head resting on the dirt-covered ground. She glanced around – the man whom she had fought before Sebastian was no where to be seen. She sighed once again and closed her eyes, allowing sleep to overtake her. She felt Sebastian stir beside her.


	23. Taming the Wild Animal

The next morning, Circe awoke to find herself laying in bed, dressed in her sleep clothes. Shocked, she got out of bed and went to investigate. When she emerged from her room and stood at the top of her staircase, she saw the front door close. She ran into her office and looked out the window, trying to get a glimpse at who had just emerged from her home. But, she saw no one. _"Sebastian."_ she thought dryly. _"You have healed from your wounds much faster than I would have thought…"_ She sighed and went into the bathroom, drawing a bath for herself.

* * *

Three days had passed when Circe received a letter from the Earl, inviting her to visit the mansion for the day. The carriage stopped at the marble steps which ascended to the front door of the mansion. Circe waited as the driver got down and opened the door for her. She stepped out, her heels crunching as they seeped into the gravel beneath her feet. After murmuring a 'Thank you' to the driver, she headed up to the front door. Before she could even knock, the door opened.

"Welcome, Miss Duncombe." the butler said tunefully. She nodded and stepped past him, entering the mansion. Sebastian closed the door behind her and turned to her. "The Young Master is in the study. I will show you to him." He turned and went up the staircase and into the West Wing. She followed close behind him, her shoes clicking on the marble floors. Once they arrived, Sebastian opened the door for her and motioned inside. He followed her into the room and closed the door behind them. The Earl sat in a grand armchair behind a beautiful wooden desk.

"Good morning, Young Earl." she spoke warmly, bowing slightly.

"Good morning Miss Duncombe." he replied. Circe glanced and noticed the book she had given him laying on the corner of his desk. She smiled.

"Have you been enjoying it?" she asked, noticing the bookmarker was over half-way through the pages.

"I have, indeed." The boy smiled. "A very interesting read. Your gift is very much appreciated, Miss Duncombe." Sebastian walked over and stood at the side of the desk. "However," the child began, "the reason I have asked you here today is that we have much to discuss. To begin, I hear you injured my butler several nights ago." Circe's eyes widened slightly.

"Tattled on me to your Master, did you?" she said, turning to Sebastian and looking at him scornfully. "Pathetic."

"Now, now." Sebastian said, smiling. "My Master merely noticed the injuries the following morning. I must commend you, Seraphine." She looked at him, surprised. "You did a rather decent job." She bared her teeth at him.

"Apparently it was not good enough."

"Quite the contrary. I was impressed." He smiled.

"Enough of this." the boy snapped. "Miss Duncombe," he said, turning to Circe, "I have other things I wish to discuss with you. If you would care to take a seat…" he motioned to a chair in the corner. She nodded and brought it over in front of the desk, taking a seat. Ceil nodded.

"Now, it would seem that the Queen is displeased with my actions during my previous investigation," he began. "Thus she has ordered that I throw a party so that I may atone for my actions."

"My, my, Earl. What naughty thing have you gone and done now?" Circe asked playfully, raising an eyebrow.

"Never mind that. The party shall be thrown in honor of Sir Georg Von Siemens." he said, inspecting his fingernails nonchalantly.

"The German?" she asked, surprised.

"Indeed. It shall be held next Thursday." he said. "I wish to extend you an invitation."

"To which I shall gladly accept." she replied, smiling.

"Excellent." He rested his hand on the desk. "I also wish to ask you of one more thing, Miss Duncombe." She raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?" The boy sighed.

"During my last investigation, we left one loose end." She leaned in, interested in what the child had to say. "His name is Snake."

"Oh?" she said, intrigued. "Young Earl," she leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, "does this happen to have anything to do with your question about whether I had heard of the Noah's Ark Circus?" Sebastian smiled and glanced at the Earl.

"As I have told you…" Sebastian said softly to the boy. "She is smarter than you think, Young Master." The boy narrowed his eye.

"It does." Circe crossed her arms, smirking.

"Do you wish for me to kill this…Snake?" she asked, twitching her foot.

"No. Merely search for him." Circe clicked her tongue.

"Tsk, tsk, child." She chuckled. "You know humans are touchy creatures. What have you done to upset this one?" She glanced at Sebastian, who smirked and narrowed his eyes mischievously. The boy looked irritated.

"I am asking you to keep a lookout for him, and prevent him from harming anyone." he said, ignoring her inquiry.

"Like you?" she asked sneeringly.

"Enough of that." he spat.

"How will I know who he is, Young Earl?" she questioned. Sebastian chuckled softly from beside the boy.

"He is easily distinguishable." Sebastian said, smiling.

"He looks like a snake." Ceil added curtly, growing obviously tired of the conversation.

"Ahh. His name is Snake. He looks like a snake." she said, chuckling. "Let me guess, at the circus, he dealt with snakes?" Sebastian smirked and Ceil nodded in response. "How adorable." Circe said mockingly.

"Will you do this for me?" Ceil asked.

"Yes, child. I shall." She smiled and stood, bowing.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Are we not finished here?" she questioned, looking curious.

"I extended my hospitality to you for the day. The least you could do would be to oblige in it." She smirked. _"Darling boy."_

* * *

The rest of the day was surprisingly peaceful. She, the Earl, and the butler found themselves in the library before long.

"I am told you play the piano very skillfully." the Young Earl said to her, motioning to the beautiful instrument in the corner. "Won't you play while I read?" She smiled and went over to the piano, sat down on the bench, and began to play. The notes were like objects floating through the empty air of the library, filling it with delightful music. The sound hung like ribbon in the air, streaming through it like silk. When she was finished, the Earl urged her to continue. She played for the Earl and his butler until sunset, the pink and purple sky glowing with the final farewells of the sun.

"Would you care to stay for dinner?" the Earl asked once the final note had dissipated like smoke from the air.

"I do not eat." she said, chuckling.

"True." he replied. "For the night, then? We have your usual guest room made up for you. Besides, it is improper for a lady such as yourself to travel within the city at night." She smirked. If only the child knew…

"In that case, I suppose I shall stay the night." She smiled at the boy.

"Good." the boy said, nodding.

* * *

A knock sounded at Circe's door at one in the morning. She sighed and rose for her chair and went to open the door.

"You are relentless." she muttered, allowing Sebastian to enter the room. She closed the door behind him and turned. He began unbuttoning his tailcoat. "What do you think you are doing?" she asked incredulously. He chuckled, tossing the tailcoat on the ottoman.

"Do you not wish to see my wounds?" he asked, beginning to unbutton his shirt.

"Why would I?" she said.

"Are they not like a trophy in your eyes, Seraphine?" he questioned. Half of his shirt buttons were now undone. She could see bandages wrapped around his chest and abdomen. He stopped and looked at her, able to tell that his injuries were already giving her pleasure. Her eyes narrowed as she waved her hand for him to continue. Several moments later his shirt was off, revealing bandages covering his chest, stomach, and upper arms. He began to take off the cloth that covered the wounds. She waited impatiently to see how much damage she had done to him. When the bandages were off, she saw barely a trace of anything. Only several small scratches remained. She huffed and turned her head.

"You may put your clothing back on now." she muttered, disappointed.

"You must keep in mind that this is after three days of healing. I myself am surprised it took this long." he said, as if trying to justify it to her. "It was apparent that a great deal of rage went into inflicting these upon me." He motioned to his upper body. She glanced at him dejectedly. "Really, Seraphine." he scolded. "Do not be so childish." She glared at him. "Being put out at the fact that I am not as injured as you would have hoped I would be is very pitiful." he reprimanded.

"I said you may put your clothing back on." she growled, ignoring his comment and turning from him. He grabbed her shoulder and threw her on the bed, leaning over her body and pinning her down with his hands.

"Nearly three hundred years old and you sometimes act as if you are younger than my Master…" he looked at her scornfully. She snarled at him and began to thrash beneath him, trying to break free of his grasp.

"Release me!" she hissed, her eyes turning fuchsia. He smirked and coked his head.

"No." he said, smiling. He leaned in closer. She felt his breath tickling her neck and ear. She shuddered.

"Please." she whispered fervently. Curious, Sebastian leaned back and looked into her eyes.

"Why do you still despise me so, Seraphine?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. She looked at him in disbelief.

"You ruined me." she managed to say, her lip trembling.

"I graced you with immortality and ultimate power." he said, confused. "I have allowed you to take your revenge." She shook her head.

"My revenge will not be complete until your heart stops beating, Sebastian Michaelis." she replied, defeated. She stopped struggling and grew weak beneath his grasp. He smirked. He had broken her, in a sense. He had defeated her once more. Every time he did so, she lost a sliver more of her anger towards him. If he could only break her permanently, then she would be his conquest. His prize. His obedient creation. He stroked her chin with his finger. She did not flinch or move to stop him; she merely gazed blankly across the room, her head resting to the side, revealing her thin, smooth neck. Her skin was like porcelain. Yet her heart was like cold stone. Sebastian so wanted to break her and take control. It was like taming a wild animal. They have to be broken before they can be obedient to their masters. He was her creator. Her master, in a way. And he would one day make her obedient under him. He removed his glove with his teeth and tossed it aside, stroking her chin with his finger again. His touch trailed down her neck and lingered on her collarbone. He continued downward, his cold fingers electrifying her skin. She hated his touch. But, she lost; it was only fair she receive the loser's punishment. She knew that he realized she had been yanked down a peg, which made her weak and miserable. She made no move to stop him as he ripped her corset at the seams, letting it fall to the floor. She was defeated. She despised Sebastian Michaelis with all her being. His touch disgusted her. His voice rang uncomfortably in her ears. She shuddered at his touch as he broke the seams of her shirt, letting that fall to the floor as well. He leaned in close, his breath sending quivers of despair through her body. His fingers tickled the nape of her neck, trailing down once again towards her collarbone, and then her cleavage. He lingered, his breath still battering against her skin. His fingers then move downward to her abdomen, avoiding her breasts, and caressed her hip bones. He ran his hand up and down her thigh. Tears began to form in her eyes. Her mind snapped back to attention and she shoved him off her with amazing force. He stumbled backward, smirking devilishly.

"I shall tame you one day, Seraphine Yorkshire." he murmured playfully. She glared at him tenaciously as he opened the door and left the room.


	24. The Party Begins

It was a day before the Little Earl Phantomhive's party. Circe had not visited nor seen him in over a week, but sadly, that did not mean a rest from Sebastian. For the past several nights, the demonic butler had been showing up in her courtyard, watching the house as she sat at her office window, looking out at him, returning his gaze. They simply watched each other for hours until just before dawn, when Sebastian would return to the mansion, still under cover of darkness. Circe knew he was toying with her. However, she no longer cared. She would play the game, as always, but she refused to allow herself to succumb to such anger like she did while attacking Sebastian. That type of behavior and loss of control over herself, she decided, was inexcusable and reprehensible. She would still take her revenge upon him one day, though, for she had not been fully satisfied with the job she had done the last time. But, for now, she would remain civil and proper, keeping her anger under control and forbidding herself from committing any rash actions, regardless of what the butler did. She knew he, in his own hellish way, was aiming to tame her; to make her his pet. She would most certainly not allow that to happen.

Night was falling again, quickly covering the land with an indigo blanket of velvety darkness. Circe watched out the window, sitting in her chair at her desk. The hours passed and, at two o'clock in the morning, he showed up. In the blink of an eye, he appeared amidst a cloud of dust outside, his eyes fixed on hers. She sighed and frowned at him. His scarlet eyes glowed mystically in the moonlight. They continued to gaze at each other; each of them scrutinizing the other. They both, in the eyes of mortals, were beautiful. Flawless creatures who shone with grace, dignity, class, and style. Their looks were ones that were not easily forgotten, embodying the beauty and value of something like a precious stone or priceless pearl. Circe sighed, still staring at the pale, black haired, statuesque man. Morning grew close as the hours drew on and, as the faintest glow of sunrise began to peek out from over the horizon, Sebastian vanished, leaving a trail of dust behind him. Circe's eyes narrowed at she rose from her chair and went to her bedchamber to ready herself for the day.

* * *

She arrived a little early to the party, for the Earl had sent word by messenger earlier that afternoon stating that he wished to speak with her before the festivities took place. She lifted a gloved hand and knocked on the door, which was opened by the infamous butler dressed in his usual black.

"Well if it isn't my midnight visitor…" she mumbled, smirking and narrowing her eyes. Sebastian's face betrayed a look of surprise at the greeting, but he soon collected himself and smiled.

"This way, Miss Duncombe." He bowed and motioned inside. She was taken by the man to the Earl's study in the East Wing, where he sat behind his desk, looking out at the gloomy, clouded sky.

"Welcome, Miss Duncombe." he said, smiling softly. She returned the smile and curtsied slightly.

"Thank you, Little Earl. Now, what was it you wished to speak to me about?" she asked, cutting an end to any hope of useless chitchat. The Earl's face grew serious.

"Do you recall the assignment I gave to you the last time we were together?" he asked, standing and resting his hands on the ornate wooden desk and staring at her intently.

"Pertaining to _Snake_?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow. The boy nodded, looking satisfied. "I may be nearly three hundred years old, child, but I do not forget things that easily." she said, a humored tone ringing through her voice as she waved an index finger at him, jokingly reprimanding him. He waved his hand sharply, brushing off the comment.

"What are your findings?" She looked at him, her face serious.

"Very little, regrettably." She clasped her hands together in front of her, laying them on the ruffles of her burgundy dress.

"Damn." the boy muttered, looking down at the floor. A knock sounded at the front door below. Ceil glanced at Sebastian and waved him off. Sebastian bowed and left the two in the room alone. The Earl gazed at her and, after a few moments, opened his mouth to speak.

* * *

The guests were arriving slowly and everyone was left to congregate in the hallway in front of the entryway, chatting among themselves. Circe merely stood back and observed. Her curiosity, however, was piqued when she noticed a man standing off by himself. He, judging from his lack of proper evening dress, was a poorer man, not of high status. He was standing awkwardly, wringing his hands together nervously and looking sheepish, as if he knew he was not supposed to be there. Strangely, though, he was the only one in the room Circe found looked interesting. She nearly snickered when he bumped into Ran-Mao's ample bosom and immediately turned red – not unlike that of her dress._ "How easily spooked he is…"_ she thought humorously to herself as Lau began introducing himself and Ran-Mao. Circe listened nonchalantly and discovered from their brief exchange that this shy little worm was a professor and a writer of some sort. She chuckled softly as Lau attempted to frighten the man, describing the Little Earl as, not entirely inaccurate, but a completely exaggerated character. The Earl then appeared at the top of the stairs, looking dignified in all his boyish, noble grandeur. He descended the stairs and cast a fleeting, knowing glance at Circe before going over to Lau, Ran-Mao, and the nervous man. She felt Sebastian's presence grow closer and peeked to her left out of the corner of her eye. He was standing beside her.

"I assume you have been let in on our secret?" he whispered faintly.

"Indeed." she replied, her voice barely audible. Sebastian smiled and nodded, turning from her to go to his master. "Sebastian." she whispered softly. He turned back to her and leaned in. "I do believe you have an _infestation_." He smirked and peered at her from the corner of his eye.

"Consider it taken care of." And with that, he left and went to stand by his master. She smirked, satisfied, and followed the group into the dining room, for the guest of honor had, at last, arrived. Circe was the third person to be introduced and, once the formalities were over and almost everyone had been acquainted, she meandered over to the nervous man who sat on a chair by the window. He looked up at her as she approached, giving him her most charming smile. His face softened and he seemed instantly more at ease.

"May I sit beside you?" she asked, her eyes sparkling and her voice most melodic and soothing.

"Y-yes. Of course!" he said rather enthusiastically. She chuckled and took the seat beside him.

"Forgive my rudeness but," she looked at him with her irresistible emerald eyes, "who are you, sir?" He smiled sheepishly and looked down at the ground.

"I-I'm no one." he said, rubbing the back of his neck and slumping over.

"That is absurd." she said, chuckling softly. "Nobody is no one." He looked at her, his eyebrows furrowed. A moment passed and he gave out a laugh.

"Well, I suppose you're right. In that case," he gave a slight bow from his chair. "My name is Arthur." She smiled and bowed her head.

"Circe." she replied, offering her hand to him, which he gladly took and kissed.

"A pleasure." he said, smiling. Just then, Sebastian arrived holding a tray of champagne.

"Would you care for a drink?" he asked charmingly. Arthur took one and, looking up at Sebastian, was immediately sent into a slight daze. Sebastian smirked and glanced at Circe, pushing the platter slightly towards her. She held her hand up and shook her head. Sebastian nodded and went elsewhere.

"Such a captivating face…" whispered Arthur from beside her, still in a slight trance. She chuckled.

"You think so?" she questioned doubtfully, raising an eyebrow. He shook himself and looked at her. From behind him, the Young Earl appeared. She looked into the man's eyes and smiled.

"It would seem better company than I has just arrived." she chuckled softly, standing and motioning to the Earl. Arthur looked up in shock at the boy. Circe left the two before anything more could be said and began circulating around the room, chatting lightly and jovially with the other guests. Soon, the guest of honor, Georg von Siemens, became considerably sloshed and began harassing Irene Diaz, the famed opera singer. Circe sighed. _"Pathetic humans…_" she thought dryly as the events unfolded before her. As it became increasingly worse, the German's temper rising from a slap to the face from the woman, Circe sensed the tension in the room thickening. She watched, her calculating eyes narrowed, watching the situation carefully. She gasped slightly when Siemens tossed the contents of his glass towards the woman, which was intercepted by the Earl. She smirked devilishly, proud of the boy's quick thinking and sacrifice. Once the situation had been completely taken care of and the guests had returned to their merrymaking, Circe went over to Sebastian and the Earl in the corner, who were attempting to dry the boy off.

_"Like a foul, dirty hog, is he not?" _Circe asked the two in French, her eyes narrowed as she still gazed at Siemens on the other side of the room. _"A mere boisterous pig who guzzles down alcohol like a fish…" _She scoffed and turned to Ciel._ "Are you alright, Young Earl?"_ she asked, truly concerned. The boy nodded.

_"So that's what becomes of that stuffed shirt of a man once liquor's involved, eh?" _he replied, rubbing his face with a towel Sebastian has supplied him with._ "Seeing him like this, I'd have to say he and the bottle are no strangers."_ Circe noticed Arthur staring at them, his face concentrating, as if he were deciphering what they were saying. She smirked.

_"Even so, seeing him incapable of self-discipline make me think him an utter fool or perfectly shameless." _Sebastian replied, glancing over at Siemens.

_"He is stricken with an illness that even the doctors would be hopeless to cure." _Ciel said firmly, still wiping himself with the towel. The three heard someone laugh near them and turned. It was Arthur. Ciel smiled deviously and put a finger to his lips. "Shhh." Arthur's face turned red. Not long after, Siemens passed out from drinking. Sebastian heaved the man over his shoulder and escorted Ciel out of the room, who gave a parting adieu to the guests before he retired for the night. A while later, while Circe was in the lounge with Lau, Ran-Mao, and Woodley, a man dealing in diamonds from overseas, a crash sounded from the end of the long hallway. Everyone got up and rushed to the source of the noise. Circe sighed and followed, taking her time. Her mind wandered back to the ship she took when she was a teenager when she moved to France – the voyage where she killed the little girl and crewman. When the screams sounded the following mornings, she followed the stampede to the upper decks, taking her time in following them, just as she was now. She smirked at the memory. _"My, what a naughty little girl I was._" she mused impishly. The group was stopped at Georg von Siemens chambers. As she peered through the doorway, Circe saw the pig of a man lying, his eyes glazed over and his mouth agape, lying in a chair. _"And so it begins…"_ she thought dryly.


	25. Ominous Discussions

Circe watched, uninterested, as the group gathered into the room. Arthur inspected Siemens and, after a moment or two, stood and turned to the group.

"H-he's dead..!" he exclaimed, taken aback. Several members in the group gasped in response. Circe's eyes narrowed as she looked around the room, eyeing each person carefully. Earl Charles Grey had a similar expression on his face, which piqued her interest. She chuckled darkly to herself. _"How humorous…" _she mused. The stench of death was absent in the unusually warm room as they mulled over the sight before them. Suddenly, Bardroy, the Earl's cook, and Finny, the mansion's gardener, burst into the room, yelling.

"I-is he dead yet?!" Finny asked worriedly.

"Yes…the hemorrhage from the chest wound was most likely fatal." Arthur explained, peering over the body once again, his eyes running over the dark splotch that covered the German's chest. "I can't be certain because of how dark it is but…" he continued.

"Hey," Bardroy said, interrupting Arthur and turning to Sebastian, who stood beside him, "ain't this room kinda hot?"

"Yes it is." Sebastian agreed. "I had heated up the room in advance but…" he put a finger to his chin and wondered aloud, "perhaps he felt a chill." Everyone's attention was diverted as Ciel walked in the room, followed by Tanaka. The child rubbed his eye sleepily. Circe's heart warmed at the sight and a faint smile brushed across her lips. _"You can be so adorable when you wish to be, Young Earl…"_ she thought fondly.

"I say, what on earth is the meaning of all this racket?" the boy demanded.

"Young master." Sebastian said softly. The boy looked around the room. His eye caught on the seemingly lifeless body of Lord Siemens.

"What?!" he exclaimed, shocked. Immediately he looked at Sebastian, an unreadable look in his eye. Sebastian returned the glance and then looked at Circe, his eyes glinting devilishly.

"In any case," Grimsby Keane, the famed stage director, went on, "we should leave things in here untouched for when the yard arrives."

"No." Bardroy said firmly. Circe's eyebrows rose slightly. "I don't wanna put it this way, but flesh rots quicker that you think. Even if we douse the fire now, the corpse'll go right off if it's kept by the hearth." Irene swooned, upset from the mention of rotting flesh. Circe felt a twinge of irritation towards her – acting as weak and foolish as she was; it was ridiculous.

"He's right." Arthur said. Everyone looked at the man as he continued. "We should place the corpse in a cool, dark place until the experts can examine it."

"Very well." said Sebastian. "Then let us relocate him to the cellar until the gentlemen of the yard arrive." He waved Finny on to go and fetch them a cot for them to use to move the body. Lau then spoke up.

"But," he said mystically, "that won't be happening anytime soon, will it?" A dark cloud of unhappy realization seemed to fall on the group. No one spoke. "I mean," he continued, "have you seen this storm?" He brushed back the curtains and gazed out the window. He was right. Flooding was already occurring on account that the ground was unable to soak up the vicious, unending pounding of rain quickly enough. Circe's mood dampened. _"What a mess this shall make…"_ she thought dryly.

"T-then that means we can't leave this place either!" Woodley screamed angrily. Circe chuckled darkly. The group's attention now turned to her as she spoke.

"You only just figured that out?" Woodley scowled at her as she smirked impishly at him, her eyes narrowed into intimidating emerald slits.

"It's fine." Lau said lightly. "We all planned on staying the night anyway." he said, shrugging, his long sleeves covering his hands.

"It's far from fine! A murder was just committed here for God sakes!" Woodley screamed. Circe sighed, exasperated, and exchanged an irritated look between the Young Earl and his butler. Sebastian merely smirked in response.

"Indeed…" Lau muttered, his voice low and ominous. "Right now, this manor truly is an isolated island in the middle of no where…" Silence fell over the group and the atmosphere became think with tension.

"Therefore," the Earl Grey said, speaking up and glancing around the group, "it is highly likely that the murderer still remains inside the mansion or within the grounds." A slight gasp came from Irene, giving Circe a twinge of pleasure at the tiresome woman's fear. "Or perhaps should I say, thinking through it logically, the murderer is one of us?"

"Wha-?!" Keane exclaimed, sounding almost insulted at the comment. The others gasped. Circe, Sebastian and Ciel remained perfectly silent, however. "Must be one of us?! What kind of sick joke is that?!" Keane spat.

"Please calm yourself, Mr. Keane." Circe said, vexed as she rubbed the bridge of her nose tiredly with her fingers. He gave her a vicious look. "Outbursts are the last thing that would be beneficial in this situation." She sighed and looked at him degradingly, as would a parent scolding a child. Irene Diaz let out a faint noise. They all turned their attention to her.

"Yes, Miss Diaz?" Arthur asked, concerned. She stood, pondering, and turned to Mey-Rin.

"The door to this room was locked when we arrived, wasn't it?" she asked the maid.

"Now that you mention it, you're right; it was locked, Miss." Irene nodded, her eyebrows furrowed together as her mind worked quickly to decipher the puzzle.

"The someone could have entered this room from a window and, after locking the door to stall for time, escaped the same way they came, couldn't they?" The Earl Grey shook his head and walked over to the window, motioning to the floor.

"But then wouldn't you expect there to be footprints if someone came in from out of this downpour?" Irene's face fell slightly. "And let's not forget, this room is on the second floor." He jiggled the handle on the window. "And the window's locked, too."

"Then someone locked the door from the corridor and ran off…" Keane mumbled, rubbing his chin thoughtfully with his thumb and index finger.

"That is impossible." Sebastian corrected, catching them off guard. "The keys in this mansion all belong to the warded locks from when the mansion was first built." he said, holding up a key he took from his pocket. "The keys themselves are of very complicated make, so without a master locksmith on hand, duplicating them is impossible." Circe eyed the key he held in his hand. It was indeed of very intricate design. "Moreover," Sebastian continued, "the keys are kept in a locked cupboard, over which I, the butler, stand guard. Thus, no one can take the keys out as they please." Circe sighed in impatience as he continued. "In addition to the warded lock, the doors are also fitted with a latch on the inside for convenience." He held his hand out and made a circular motion with it, closing his eyes and looking slightly pompous. "So…they may be locked from within. In a situation where the keys cannot be removed from the cabinet, it is only possible to lock the doors from inside." His expression turned grave and serious. "In other words…"

"We're looking at a locked-room murder, hmm?" Lau said tunefully.

"That isn't possible!" Woodley yelled. "This isn't a damn novel!"

"Indeed." the Little Earl spoke up. "You'd never hear the end of it from the public if an unsophisticated locked-room drama like this was ever published." He yawned into his hand. Woodley looked at him curiously. "Aren't you of the same opinion…Professor?" the child asked Arthur playfully, turning to the man who stood beside him.

"Now I see…yes, it is possible if you use that…" he replied cryptically, pondering.

"What do you mean?" Circe and Lau ask simultaneously.

"Needle and thread." the boy said confidently.

"A needle…" Keane began.

"And thread?" Woodley asked, finishing the comment. They looked at the Little Earl desperately for an answer.

"As Sebastian mentioned before, this door can only be locked from the inside. However," he glanced down at the floor and then back up at the group standing before him, "you can easily lock it from the outside with needle and thread." Circe hummed softly. "It goes like this…first you jam the threaded needle by the raised latch to fix it. Then you leave the room, having pulled the thread under the door. Last, if you tug on the thread carefully so it doesn't break and dislodge the needle...the latch will fall, thereby locking the door." Circe smiled. _"What a clever boy, indeed…"_ she thought fondly to herself. "If you retrieve the needle and thread from beneath the door just so, you leave behind no proof."

"And disposing of a needle and thread is easy enough." Circe added thoughtfully. The child nodded in response.

"It's a simple a boring trick that's been used over and over by mystery novelists. But the murderer isn't looking to write a novel. This trick serves more as a practical diversion, wouldn't you agree?" Ciel prompted. Lau spoke up.

"I do see now how you can create a locked room that way but…" Lau began.

"…doesn't that mean it's possible for anyone to have murdered him?" Arthur asked worriedly. Circe smirked darkly.

"Indeed." she answered melodically, her voice low and ominous. Her comment was barely audible, however, for Keane and Woodley began yelling.

"We did no such thing! It must've been somebody else!" Keane hollered, speaking for himself and Irene.

"It wasn't me either!" Woodley screamed indignantly. _"My, my…how irritating…"_ Circe thought, her eyes narrowed and impatient. "Y-you're the most suspicious one among us! You were quarreling with the Lord at the banquet!" Woodley screamed, pointing at Keane._"They are like wild dogs who turn on each other for the slightest of reasons..."_

"Now, now, gentlemen…" Circe reprimanded, her voice exhausted and annoyed. Sebastian shot her a humored look from the corner of his eye.

"Yes, come now." Lau said, smiling. "We just need to calm down and verify everyone's alibis. Lord Siemens was murdered after he retired to his room…or to put it more accurately...he was killed after he rang the bell for the servants and before Master Butler and Company arrived at his door. Thus you only need to have an alibi for that time frame."

"Irene and I were in the billiard room." Keane said affirmatively.

"I was there too." the Lord Earl Grey added.

"I was there as well. And Mister Phelps, too." Arthur motioned to the meek mess of a man who lay on the floor before them, having fainted earlier from the excitement. "After Lord Siemens went to bed and until the commotion, we were all in the billiard room."

"Yes, none of us left the room in that time." Keane added.

"What were you two doing?" the Little Earl asked Lau, motioning with his chin to him and Ran Mao.

"Nn?" Lau moaned with a smile. "Oh, we were drinking in the lounge with Mister Woodley and Miss Duncombe, here." he motioned towards Circe, who nodded her head once affirmingly.

"Yes!" exclaimed Woodley. "We were together until the racket began. And I believe we had Master Butler bring us some more liquor after midnight because we ran out of drinks."

"W-we servants were cleaning up! All five of us, we were!" Min-Rey shouted roughly.

"Which leaves…" the Earl Grey said softly. They all looked at Ciel, who returned their gazes, shocked.

"Forgive my insolence, Lord Earl," Lau began, smiling mischievously, "but what were you doing at that time?" Ciel looked harshly at him.

"I am indeed the only one without an alibi, but I had no reason to murder his Lordship." Ciel answered, his head bowed slightly and his eyelids closed.

"Ehhhhhhh, Reaaaaally?" the Earl Grey sang, smiling impishly. He had his arms crossed, looking challengingly at the boy, who returned it with a hardened gaze.

"You can't say you had no reason with absolute certainty." Lau pointed out. "The reason for which one person murders another is typically inconceivable to other folk. People will never be able to understand another's mind, regardless of how much research genius scholars collect on the subject." The boy's eye narrowed dangerously at the Chinese man. "Besides," Lau continued, "your company has a branch in Germany, right? You might have had disputes over some documents with him, a board member of a large bank…though we'd know nothing of such matters." he ended dismissively.

"Are you implying that my Funtom is defaulting?" the boy challenged. "What utter drivel!" he concluded, rubbing his forehead, exasperated.

"Please wait!" Finny screamed. Everyone looked at him, surprised at his sudden outburst. "I don't quite get the complicated stuff, but…but…Young Master would never do such a-"

"Finny." Ciel interjected sharply. "It's fine. Step back." Finny did as he was told, his eyes now clouded with tears.

"What I want is a guarantee…" Earl Grey said softly, leaning against the wall with is arms crossed.

"A guarantee?" Circe asked, raising an eyebrow questioningly at him.

"A guarantee that we'll make it out of here alive." He looked at them all darkly.

"What do you mean by that?" Irene asked.

"'Cos this mansion here is under the control of a killer, right? And until the storm passes, we're stuck." Lighting flashed ominously outside. What happens if all our lips are forcibly sealed before the storm ends?"

"Do not be so dramatic, Earl Grey." Circe reprimanded.

"Then what if…" Lau spoke up, "we confine him? Ya know, lock him up!" he said cheerfully, referring to Ciel. Circe looked at him, amused, and smirked at Ciel, who was being watched carefully by all in the room.

"If that will satisfy you, then do it." the boy replied sharply.

"Indeed." Earl Grey said. "I believe the best alternative would be to have one of the guests stay with his Lordship and watch over him."

"I-I don't want to myself!" Woodley exclaimed.

"Neither do I!" Lau added, smirking.

"I don't want to either! But someone's got to!" the Earl Grey said indignantly. Circe sighed and smirked as several of them looked at her.

"No." she said shortly. Ciel looked at her from the corner of his eye.

"Then that means it's in your hands, Professor!" Lau said, slapping a hand on Arthur's back.

"Make sure that you keep a close eye on him so that he does not run off, now…" Circe added, her voice low as she smirked and leaned closer to the man. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the Earl Grey giving them all a funny look.

"Now then," Sebastian interjected, "I shall show you all to your rooms, Ladies and Gentlemen." He bowed and motioned out the door. "If you would please follow me."


	26. The Scene Unfolds

"Why, my plan is totally ruined!" he shouted, bursting out the door. "Moreover, Siemens is down below?!" He stomped his feet childishly and went down the hall. "Having to go to the cellar alone…could it get any worse?!" Circe watched as the murderer left Lord Siemens' room. It had been some time since everyone had gone to bed; Sebastian had stayed to make sure there was enough coke in the guests' fireplaces. She chuckled darkly to herself as the murderer rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. Circe sauntered into the room, where Sebastian lay in a bloody heap on the floor. She smirked and leaned over him.

"I must say, you would do anything for your Little Master." Sebastian did not answer, but his fingers twitched slightly. Circe's eyes narrowed. "Now, now, you must hurry. Otherwise you will never beat him to the cellar." Sebastian grunted softly and picked himself off the floor. Standing, he turned to face towards her, a charming smile adorning his face. She sighed and waved him on. He immediately left the room and went down to the cellar. About fifteen minutes later, Circe went searching for the butler, whom she found cooking in the kitchen. She raised an eyebrow and went in. She stood over him and watched as the he began chopping vegetables in the dark.

"I am guessing it is a surprise that the boy himself has been made into a murder suspect, is it not?" Sebastian glanced at her and smirked.

"Slightly." He put the vegetables into a bowl and began to prepare the meat. "Though it is but a mere setback."

"You expected it to be him all along, did you not?" she asked, smirking.

"Not quite, no." he said as he went about chopping the meat. "But it does not surprise me in the least." They each stood in silence for several minutes after that. Suddenly, Sebastian stopped cutting and, putting the knife down, turning to Circe. "I require your assistance, Seraphine."

"Why should I help you, Sebastian Michaelis?" she questioned indignantly, raising her chin at him in a pompous fashion. He smirked and chuckled. She sighed, supposing that she could offer her help.

"For what, exactly, is my assistance required?"

* * *

In the morning, several screams sounded. Circe sighed and rose from the chair that sat in front of the fire in her room and followed the footsteps down the hall and into Lord Siemens' room once again. There, Sebastian lay on the floor, his body covered in blood, a poker for the fireplace lodged in his chest. Murmurs of shock sounded among the group. Suddenly, the Little Earl stepped into the room. His face immediately drained of color and his eyes widened in horror.

"Se…sebast…ian?" he mumbled softly, his voice cracking with disbelief.

"No Young Master!" Mey-Rin and Finny grabbed him as he took a step towards his fallen butler.

"Don't order your master around!" he roared, slapping them both back and walking towards Sebastian. "Sebastian," he said sharply, stopping at the man's body, "how long are you going to keep up this childish prank? Once again, I cannot imagine the floor makes for comfortable slumber." The butler did not respond. "Just how much longer do you intend to feign sleep, hm?" Silence hung like a thick blanket around the room. No one dared to speak a word – everyone simply watched as the Earl put his foot on the man's bloodied chest. "Can you not hear me, Sebastian? I am telling you to get up." The boy grabbed ahold of the instrument that was nestled inside the chest cavity of the butler and yanked it out. Arthur gasped. "Sebastian! You get up right now, do you hear me?! I command you!" The boy now sat on top of the butler, straddling him with his tiny little legs. He grabbed a fistful of Sebastian's clothing on his chest and yanked, pulling the man's head of the ground and shaking him. "Did you fail to hear my command?!" he screamed. He gave his butler a fierce slap across the face, to which Circe struggled desperately to withhold a laugh. _"Oh my, how enjoyable it is to see you like this, Sebastian…"_ she mused, humored. _"Being slapped by your Little Master whilst laying in a pool of your own blood on the floor. How humiliated you must be…"_ Again she withheld a chuckle and smirk as the Earl slapped Sebastian once more. "Who in the name of hell gave you permission to die?!" Bardroy went to stop him.

"Young Master," he muttered gently, "Please stop." He put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "We can't take anymore of this." He sighed as his Tiny Master looked up at him with his beautiful sapphire eye. "He…he's already dead…" Ciel's hand released Sebastian's shirt weakly.

"This is…some kind of joke, right?" Circe held in another smirk. "Sebastian…are you really dead? You…and you alone, who promised you would stay at my side until the very end…" He leaned down further on the butler, his head almost brushing the man's shoulder. Circe heard him whisper something into Sebastian's ear. She held in yet another smirk.

"The corpse will rot if we leave it here much longer – so it would be best to move it quickly." the Earl Grey said, making Bardroy, who stood beside him, flinch at his apathy for the Young Master and his feelings. Min-Rey began to pull Ciel off of Sebastian. The boy screamed in protest, but eventually gave in and was taken into the corner by his other servants.

"Committing this last murder would've been impossible for the confined Earl, hm?" Lau said suddenly. "This is all turning out to be very amusing indeed." he added, smiling. In the corner stood Ciel, surrounded by his loyal servants. _"What wonderful acting skills you possess, Little Earl…"_ Circe thought as she narrowed her eyes.

"What on earth is going on in this mansion?!" Keane yelled, bringing her back to attention. "Two people have been murdered in the course of a single night!"

"A-and he was killed in such a-" Irene began.

"Tell me about it." Bardroy said. "Runnin' him through with a fireplace poker…that was just too much."

"How can you all talk like that when the Young Master is right here?!" Finny screamed, pulling Ciel into his chest and covering his ears. "Please consider the Young Master's feelings!"

"Finny, please." Mey-Rin muttered, putting a hand on her fellow servant's shoulder.

"Well…he does have a poiiint!" the Earl Grey agreed tunefully, scratching his head. "We can stand around the corpse bandying theories about all we like, but it won't get us anywhere. So let's first carry _this_ to the cellar."

"Indeed. The discussion of the murderer's identity and the like can be continued afterward. Perhaps over a meal or something." Lau said.

"How can you take this so leisurely?!" Woodley demanded. Lau smiled and nodded in understanding.

"You're right. No good will come of rushing things." he agreed.

"That's that, then!" Earl Grey cried, turning towards the door. "We'll leave you servants to handle the disposal of _that thing_." He turned and looked back over his shoulder. "Oh and have breakfast ready for us as well, hm?" Circe eyed him with distate. "I'm heading to the dining room first!" he exclaimed from the hallway. "I'm starving." Keane, Woodley, and Irene quickly followed, giving the Earl one last sympathetic glance before passing through the threshold. Circe remained with Arthur, the Earl and his servants, saying nothing. Ciel spoke up after the others had left.

"Do as they said." Finny and Mey-Rin looked at him miserably. "Take Sebastian to the cellar." He gazed at each of them, straightening his shoulders and regaining his confidence. "I apologize for loosing my composure." He turned toward Tanaka. "Tanka." he said firmly. Tanaka nodded and went over to the boy, who looked up at him, expressionless. "Sebastian is dead. You are my butler from this day forth. I entrust you with the management and the supervision of the servants." He handed something to the old man, who looked at his with sad eyes and a smile.

"The pin of the Head Butler…this does bring back memories…" He looked at the boy. "Will an old man like me equal to the duties, I wonder?"

"You need only do it until a replacement arrives." the boy answered, turning.

"As you wish, sir." Tanaka replied, bowing. "I shall by all means accept it." Circe smiled warmly and left the room as Tanaka began to give orders to the servants. Arthur followed her.

* * *

They all sat at the dining table, eating the meals Circe had walked in on Sebastian making the previous night. Circe stared at her plate of food, uninterested in the very sight of it. Nevertheless, it would be rude to snub a meal presented to her, the guest, by her host. So, she gingerly picked up a fork, something she had not done in decades, and began to eat. The food, to her, was tasteless to her tongue and useless to her stomach. However, Earl Grey, who sat beside her, was stuffing the sustenance into his mouth like a starving animal. She peered at him from the corner of her eye, disgusted with him and his display. Her lip curled and she turned her attention back to her plate. Across the table, Irene had barely eaten anything. Circe eyed her curiously as the woman sat in silence, her face pale and her eyes, miles from the dining table, were deep in thought. Keane also took notice of this and turned to his lover.

"What's wrong, Irene? You have barely even touched your plate."

"I'm sorry." she said softly, looking almost ashamed. "I don't have much of an appetite." She wiped her mouth with her napkin.

"Hey, if that's gonna got to waste, can I help myself to it?" the Earl Grey's voice suddenly sounded. They all looked at him, surprised, thinking he was referring to Irene's plate. _"Boorish man…" _Irene began to pick up her plate and hand it to him.

"No." he said. She looked him, confuseed. He motioned to the empty seat beside her with his fork. "Not yours, but the one next to you."

"Oh." She looked at the empty chair. "You are right. There is an extra place here." She looked at the Little Earl. "Did the chef prepare one too many?" Ciel looked at her coldly.

"The one who prepared breakfast was Sebastian. He would never get the number of place settings wrong." Circe smirked. _"Indeed, you are right, Earl." _

"Well then who's is it?" Keane asked.

"Mister Phelps is missing." Circe said bluntly, her voice ringing pleasantly through the others' ears.

"You're right. I failed to notice he was even absent. He doesn't have much of a presence, after all." Woodley commented, chuckling. Circe grit her teeth at the man's unkind comment. _"How improper."_ she thought condescendingly.

"Now that you mention it, I don't think I've seen him all morning…" Arthur added, thinking.

"It seems he is really sleeping in!" Woodley laughed. Arthur, who sat to the right of Circe, stiffened. She could sense his uneasiness and worry. In the blink of an eye, he rose from his chair and began running to Mister Phelps' room. The rest of the group rose from the table and followed close behind.

"Mister Phelps!" Arthur yelled when he reached Phelps' door. He had stayed in Ciel's room the night before, for he did not wish to stay in the guest room that was assigned to him by Sebastian, since it was next to Lord Siemens' and he was frightened the murderer may come for him next door. Arthur continued to cry out for the man, banging on the door, begging him to answer. He tried the door handle.

"I-it's locked!" he exclaimed, surprised.

"Where is the key?" Circe asked Ciel, who now stood beside her.

"I don't know. Sebastian is the keeper of the key to my room. Only he knows where it is stored. Now that he is dead, I couldn't even tell you where to find it." His voice trailed off as he feigned remorse. Circe put a hand on his shoulder, acting as if to comfort him. He looked up at her, his eye glinting with a hint of mischief, which she replied to with a small smirk. Finny stepped to the front, ready to break down the door, but stopped in an instant when Earl Grey went in front of him, slashing the door open with his sword. Circe glanced down at Ciel, who looked vexed at the damage.

"I haven't had my dessert yet." said Earl Grey, who was balancing his plate in one hand and holding his fork in his mouth. "Let's take care of this quick, okay?" They rushed inside, looking for any sign of the man. Arthur called out his name once more, but stopped when he saw the man lying on the floor, half-dried foam dripping from his mouth onto the carpet. His eyes stared into oblivion and a most hideous expression of terror and pain adorned his face.


	27. A Mysterious Guest

"…how…" Ciel said faintly. Everyone was shocked. Arthur went over and leaned over the body.

"It has been quite some time since rigor mortis set in." he observed, looking over the corpse carefully.

"Are we all having a bad dream or something?" Keane asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

Earl Gray leaned in closer, narrowing his eyes, "There is no external trauma as in the previous two…"

Arthur peered closer at the body, "Wait!" he said, pointing at two adjacent holes Phelps' neck. "He has what appears to be puncture wounds in his neck!"

"Perhaps he was injected with poison from a needle or the like." Woodley offered.

"A needle?" Circe said, doubt dripping in her voice. Woodley shot her a vicious look. "I do not think so." she said, sighing.

"They could also be said to resemble tooth marks of some beast or other…" Arthur added.

"Bite marks on the neck…brings to mind Carmilla, doesn't it?" Irene whispered fearfully.

"By that, are you referring to Le Fanu's vampiric _Carmilla_?" the Young Earl asked, his voice full of disdain.

"You are saying he was killed by a vampire?" Circe questioned, her eyebrow raised. She snuffed, "Preposterous." Arthur, they noticed, was now inspecting the clock that lay on the floor. Circe walked over and peered at it over his shoulder. It was broken, the hands indicating the time of 2:38 that morning.

"That would be the clock I kept at my bedside…" Ciel said, vexed that yet another thing of his had been damaged.

"He most likely dropped it amidst his throes of agony…" Arthur murmured. "It's broken."

"Which would mean Mister Phelps died around 2:38?" the Young Earl asked.

"Yes." Arthur replied, setting the broken clock back on the dresser that sat beside the bed.

"Say! Instead of standing here holding court, why don't we go sit down and think the situation through?" Lau spoke, emerging from the Earl's rather large dressing room with Ran Mao. "Over a nice cup of tea, perhaps?"

"Quite right." Ciel nodded, agreeing. "Tanaka, show our guests to the drawing room."

"Very good, sir."

* * *

"Shall we sort all of this out, now?" Circe asked as they all sat around a short table on which tea was set up.

"Right." Keane cried, clapping his hands determinedly.

"First, Lord Siemens. He died around 1:10 A.M. today." Arthur began. "Only Earl Phantomhive has no alibi."

"And then, the Butler…we do not know the time of his death." the Earl Grey added. "Next was Phelps, and he died around 2:38 A.M. today...Okay so far?"

"No." Arthur corrected. "The butler's corpse was discovered before Phelps's. But we do not know which of the two was first to be murdered."

"Oh." The Earl Grey smiled sheepishly. "Right!"

"Going by the state of the corpses, a few hours had elapsed from the time the two were killed. Thus, it holds true that both I and the Earl have an alibi, as we were chained together till morning." Arthur said, motioning to himself and the boy with his teacup.

"The Professor and I were shackled and got into bed around 2 A.M.." Ciel explained. "Sebastian mentioned that he had already taken Mister Phelps to his bedroom. And then Mister Phelps was murdered around 2:38 A.M.." He took a sip of his tea and set it back on the saucer.

"Well," Lau began, "who saw the butler last?" Circe remained silent, glancing at the others around the room.

"The two of us, most likely." Arthur confessed. "But…the room was dark and the clock far away, so I can't be certain of the exact time."

"AH!" Everyone looked at Finny, who stood with Bardroy and Min-Rey near the door. "We saw Mister Sebastian during the night!"

"Yes, we did!" Mey-Rin exclaimed.

"That would mean Sebastian was the last to be murdered." Circe noted.

"Why did he go to see you?" Arthur asked, craning his neck towards them.

Bardroy pointed to himself, "He came to take stock of the food with me…And ordered this guy to clean the fireplaces." He pointed to Finny.

"A-and he gave me a carrier owl to dispatch." Mey-Rin added.

"An owl?" asked the Young Earl.

"An owl, unlike a pigeon, can fly even in a storm." Bardroy explained.

"Shrewd as usual." Circe murmured, inaudible to all except Ciel, who glanced at her impishly from the corner of his eye.

"What did the letter say?" Earl Grey questioned.

"I was not privy to its contents, no sir." Mey-Rin answered. Circe smirked, for she knew what was on the note.

"But if Sebastian was killed last, things get complicated, don't they?" Arthur pondered aloud. "The only two who could have created a locked room scenario in the Earl's quarters were Mister Phelps, who was within, and Sebastian, who possessed the key to said room…" Circe could feel his mind working furiously. "In that case, the theory that the culprit is Sebastian is most plausible." He took a sip of his tea. "However, Sebastian himself was murdered."

"So, the butler lad conspired with another, with whom he committed the murders, then was himself killed to ensure his silence after an argument over the ill-gotten gains or somesuch?" Lau mused, tipping his teacup and watching the liquid slosh gently around.

"That is possible." Ciel confirmed. "Then the likelihood is great of the perpetrator being one who would profit from disposing of them all."

"Quite so, quite so!" Lau purred. "Money does make the world go 'round, after all."

"However," Circe interjected, "no one could have killed all three victims."

"You're right!" Arthur cried. "But a pair may have been able to…"

"If one person couldn't have done it, then the guests who came to the party as a pair must be the guilty ones!" Woodley cried, pointing at Keane and Irene.

"Sod that! It isn't bad enough that we're locked up in this godforsaken place, but now you have the gall to treat us like common criminals?!" Keane bellowed, leaping up off the couch.

"Grimsby, calm down!" Irene pleaded.

"Yes, please do calm down, gentlemen! Besides, this isn't so simple a case as to be solved by the mere fact that two people would have been able to commit the crime!" Arthur shouted, trying, in vain, to extinguish the situation.

"Simple or not, I could care less! I'm sick of this!" Woodley roared, slamming his fists down on the table. "I can't bear to be here any longer!"

"And where is it you intend to go, sir? Under these circumstances, I would be grateful if you would refrain from taking liberties." Ciel said coolly.

"How dare you accuse me of taking liberties, when all these horrors are all your-" Woodley was cut off by the child.

"All my what?" he asked challengingly.

"I-I know what you're up to! Truth is, you're the mastermind behind all of this, aren't you?!" He pointed a grubby finger at the child, his finely trimmed goatee quivering in anger. The boy stayed calm, nonetheless.

Smiling pleasantly at Woodley, Ciel continued, "I am afraid I do not know to what it is you are referring, but please do compose yourself."

"You called us here with the intention of putting an end to us all along! You Dog of the Queen!" Arthur looked at Ciel, confused. Circe glared at Woodley, beginning to lose herself to anger. "Who in their right mind would stay here like a lamb to the slaughter?! I'll have you let me go, now!"

"Mister Woodley," Circe said, standing, her voice cold and cruel, "to leave now would be foolish. The storm has not yet lightened, and by staying with the group, you avoid risking even more suspicion directed upon yourself." He glowered at her, his teeth bared. His breathing was heavy and uneven.

"I will not be dictated by a woman!" he hollered, flinging several teacups and saucers at her. She did not move a muscle, but remained standing, unflinching as the objects hurled past her, looking into his eyes with immeasurable ferocity.

"Woodley." the Earl Phantomhive commanded from his chair. "I am telling you to sit. So sit down. Now." Woodley glared at him, shocked. Circe felt a twinge of pride for the boy and went to seat herself.

"How dare you tell me what to do!" Woodley cried, raising his fist as if he were getting ready to hit the boy.

"My Lord!" Arthur cried. Suddenly, Woodley was on the ground, whimpering, his arm twisted painfully behind him, Tanaka straddling his lower back and holding him down.

"My apologies, Mister Woodley." Tanaka said kindly as he thrust his knee into Woodley's back, drawing a pathetic grunt from the man. "However, at the manor, all who seek to harm the Young Master…whoever they may be…shall, by we servants, be shown no mercy." For what was usually a genial elderly man, Tanaka was indeed acting rather intimidating. Circe smiled and narrowed her eyes in satisfaction. Eventually, Woodley was released and, somewhat pacified, sat back in his chair.

"Damned horror house…" Woodley muttered, still fuming. Ciel smirked.

"Now, Mister Woodley, you will follow our instructions, won't you?" the Little Earl asked, crossing his legs, earning and indignant 'huff' from the man. "As things currently stand, the Professor is the only one among us who, without a doubt, cannot be the culprit." They all glanced at the nervous looking man who sat on the love-seat beside Circe. "Thus, I believe it is the safest and fairest option is to have him decide on how we should proceed." Arthur looked at him, surprised.

"M-me?" he asked in disbelief.

"Indeed. For my part, I've no desire to leave the perpetrators endlessly wandering about my manor," Ciel said, looking harshly at his guests, as if challenging them to go against his ruling. Everyone simply nodded in agreement.

"That settles it then," Circe commented.

"We have nothing but time until the storm lets up anyhow. So what do you say we hunt down and corner the culprits at our leisure? Hmm, Professor?" Ciel asked, giving Arthur a charming and innocent smile. Circe glanced at Arthur from the corner of her eye, smirking. She knew the man was perturbed by the child's innocent façade. She knew he understood the Young Earl was delighting in this macabre game. Glancing back at the boy, she chuckled silently to herself, glowing with an odd sense of pride as the child's smile mirrored that of an imp descended from the Devil himself.

* * *

Afterwards, the group decided on their main priority was that of obtaining the key to the Earl's chambers, which was thought to be in Sebastian's possession, in order to either prove or disprove their latest ridiculous-sounding theory. Arthur, feeling it make for the safest conditions, split them up into groups. Ciel, Earl Grey, Arthur, and the other servants were to travel down to the basement to look on Sebastian's person for the key, while Circe and the rest of them were to remain together in the lounge.

An hour or so passed and the group returned, having searched Sebastian's body, which had been taken to the cellar, as well as his personal living quarters. Circe and the others listened as Arthur began to discuss with them their next move.

"And so…" he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "we would like to look through everyone's rooms and luggage."

"Go right ahead," Lau replied cheerfully.

"Do what you wish," Woodley grumbled, not looking up.

"Very well," Keane said, speaking for himself and Irene. Circe and the Earl Grey merely nodded as Arthur looked at them for them approval. Once all of them had searched through one another's things, they returned to the lounge.

"So in the end it was no where to be found," Ciel said, his voice level and calculating. "At this point, we can only assume that Sebastian had already hid it someplace else."

"Or that he threw it out the window," Lau said with a mischievous smile. Everyone looked at him, curious, as he continued. "I mean, a key's a small thing, so if it were swept away or buried because of this storm, we'd have no hope of finding it."

"Excuse me!" Their attention turned suddenly to Finny. "I'll go look for it outside!" he hollered determinedly.

"I will go outside as well, I will!" Mey-Rin added, her eyebrows furrowed in a resolute manner.

"While finding the key would give us perhaps a clue or two about the murderer," Ciel said, sighing, "there's no need for you to go out of your way to-"

"I-I want to get to the bottom of this!" Finny cried, cutting the Earl off. Ciel looked at him, surprised. "I'm not very smart, so I can't find the killer by thinking through it like you, Young Master. But I could find a key! If that key will help you solve the case even a little, I'd like to try finding it!" And with that, he and Mey-Rin bounded out of the room, followed closely by Bardroy, who was yelling after them. The group sat in silence for several moments.

"Quite extraordinary servants you have employed, Young Earl," Circe mused. A long lapse of silence fell on the room before Keane finally spoke up.

"Say. Sitting here in utter silence is stifling in itself. How about we play a game of cards or something? I brought along a deck of cards," he said, rising from his chair, "so I'll go to my room and get it."

"Please wait," Arthur interjected, "if you're going to go, we should all go." Keane looked at him, slightly confused.

"But I'll be right back."

"As long as we do not know who is behind these murders, the soundest course of action is to move as a group to avoid having anymore problems," Arthur reasoned.

"True," Lau said, his voice dragging, "That's best if one of us is the guilty party. _If_ it is one of us, that is." Everyone looked at him, curious.

"What do you mean, Lau?" Circe asked.

Lau, taking a sip of his tea, answered simply, "I meant exactly what I just said. What if there exists a fourteenth person who can make the impossible possible?" His voice was cryptic and ominous, hanging in the air like a thick cloud of fog.

"Rubbish!" Woodley hollered suddenly. "That could never be!"

"Never, you say?" Lau asked, chuckling softly. Circe smirked and spoke up.

"In this world, it's absolutes like 'never' that can never be, and is waiting for the ideal moment in which to target our lives," she murmured, glancing at the Little Earl from the corner of her eye, who returned it with a knowing glance.

"He may already be closer that we think," Lau added, his voice quiet and ill-omened. Irene bit her lip in fear as Earl Grey scratched his head. "That fourteenth guest who ought not to exist…"

Woodley huffed in derision. "There's no way such a fantastical person can-" he began, but was cut off when Bardroy, Mey-Rin and Finny burst into the room.

"Young Master!" Bardroy exclaimed.

"We've caught someone dodgy!" Finny yelled. Bardroy motioned forward with his hand and Finny, pulled a strange man into the room. Circe scrutinized him as he stood there, a rope tied tightly around his arms and midsection. He was very tall and had a rather angular face, complete with a large hawk-like nose. His hair was slicked back and he was dripping wet. Through it all, though, as the others looked at the mysterious man with complete shock, Circe could not help but try her best to hold back a smirk.


End file.
